Two of The Same
by DetectiveMarlowe
Summary: Sequel to UR. Claire Watson and Sherlock Holmes have a past together that they both have to come to terms with. They both find that they are not so different after all.
1. Chapter 1

Back to Normal

The atmosphere of 221 B Baker St was once again back to normal, and Mr. Sherlock Holmes could not be happier. His secretary Miss. Claire Watson had cleared the air about her and his older brother Mycroft, and she was spending more time on the work he paid her for. The lanky detective would deny that he felt any different for the woman; they had worked together a few years before in the Red-Scarves. But, things were different now that they were not putting forth a front or living in the streets. His hazel eyes clouded momentarily with the memory, he pushed them away as he heard the sound of Mrs. Hudson ascending the stairs. "Here is your breakfast, Mr. Holmes. This porridge should warm you up." She smiled and made a slight bow as she went back to her own rooms. Sherlock looked at the food and for a moment missed the sight of his Boswell sitting across from him, ready to tuck in the food. But, Watson was married now and very happy with his wife, Mary. The intelligent sleuth ate his breakfast quietly, pondering when his next case would arrive.

He was just about to open the paper when he heard the front door open and the sound of a pair of high heeled boots made him smile just a bit. Claire Watson arrived at the top of the landing, her blue eyes brightened from the walk to his rooms. She smiled at him politely, "Good morning, Mr. Holmes. It's quite cold out there, I'm so glad to be indoors." Claire took off her hat to reveal red cheeks from the wind. As she rounded the corner to put up her coat and hat, Sherlock could not help but look at his secretary's thin form.

"If you are hungry Miss. Watson, please help yourself to some porridge. Mrs. Hudson will be quite upset if it is not eaten." He gestured to the near untouched serving bowl. He then opened the paper again, his thoughts moving from concern of his secretary's eating habits to the agony column. It was very easy to do, except when Watson tried to get him to care more about what happened in regards to Miss. Watson. It was only expected since Watson was trying to be a father figure for the young lady, but he knew that she didn't need or want one. His eyes found her again, sipping the hot breakfast at table. She looked up and for a moment their eyes met, neither one was sure how to have felt so they dropped their gazes and focused on something else.

Claire finished her breakfast; she had been in such a hurry this morning she had forgotten to eat. She was glad to be back working with Mr. Holmes after the holidays; she could focus on solving crimes rather then the chewing feeling that she had done something wrong. Mr. Holmes helped set her mind at ease, but it wasn't her mind that was the problem. Her heart had been through so much with Jack and even a bit with William she was so scared to open it again. She didn't dwell on that feeling; it distracted her from the work that kept her mind ahead of her heart. She looked over at the detective, they had so much in common and so many stories to share but, there was no time for that. Even without cases to provide a good distraction, there was the matter of her cousin Watson. He made reminiscing with Mr. Holmes difficult, since he always got shocked about what she did in her past. She smiled to herself as she cleaned her mouth with a napkin and sat down on her chair behind the second desk.

"Mr. Holmes, I have thought about it extensively and I think we ought to tell John about the gang. It won't do any harm; most of the people involved are either dead or inconsequential." Claire's voice was serious but non-chalet. She tilted her head so that she could get a good look at his reaction. Sherlock looked up from his paper, and saw the light of amusement lit up in his secretary's blue eyes.

"You are right about it not being any harm, but you have to remember Miss. Watson, your cousin is not like us. He will think our actions scandalous and even grievous, but yes he needs to know." His right arm stretched to reach his cherry-wood pipe. Poor Watson, he had such a hard time with the pair of them, Miss. Watson's shady past was treacherous enough for any man to fear to know her. As for him, Sherlock knew that he could be cold and callous but, luckily he was surrounded by two people who tried to understand it and accept it. "Now, which story should we tell him first, Miss Watson? I would think he would like the one about the fight." He lit his pipe and began puffing away into the morning.

Claire shrugged as she opened some of the mail that had piled up over the holiday. Her callused fingers cut through the paper easily as she perused each letter. "I think he might like the one where you first met me." Her passive tone made him nod in agreement. They both waited in anticipation, for the front door to open and the Doctor to walk through it. It seemed like minutes before they heard the sound of his voice downstairs complaining about the cold. Claire and Sherlock shared a bemused look before he entered, looking cold but cheerful.

"Good morning Holmes, Claire, good to see you both got in before the wind picked up." He motioned to the streets outside which were being swept by a fierce wind. As he sat down in his chair, he saw Claire ring for tea and then sit across from him on another chair. She looked anxious about something, but he wasn't sure what. He hoped she had forgiven him for trying to push her into love before she was ready. "Are you alright Claire? You look nervous about something?" Watson patted his cousin's knee like a father would do to a child. Claire inched away a little, confused by this gesture. She hated that he treated her like a child still.

"John, Mr. Holmes and I have decided that on such a horrible day like this that you deserve to hear a story from our joined past. This would be from when we were in the Red Scarves gang, and working for the government." She smoothed out her dress, readying for a barrage of questions from the good Doctor. Her cousin looked from his good friend Sherlock to his cousin, glad to finally hear about this. They had both hid those three years from him by telling him that it would scandalous to hear or that it was the wrong time to ask.

"I am delighted to be able to hear them at last; I was wondering could I write them down?" He asked, producing his trusty notebook and pencil. Claire nodded as well as Sherlock who still had the pipe in his mouth. Then Claire looked at Holmes, "Who shall tell their side of the story first, Mr. Holmes? I've never heard your side on when you first met me." Claire tucked a piece of her brown hair behind her ear as she tried to remember.

Holmes took the pipe out of his mouth momentarily, "You both know I am not a gifted storyteller, so I shall let Miss. Watson go first and then I shall expand on what I saw." He sat back comfortable with his decision. Claire smiled brightly, letting the remembrance wash over her like a warm bath.

"I had been working for Lestrade as eyes on the street for a short while, and was even thinking of transferring to Whitehall for a shot at undercover work. When he called me into his office and told me about this deal he had gotten with the Red Scarves. They had been giving information to him in exchange for a blind eye on their turf; he was tired of meeting them at all hours and wanted a full time informant. The problem was that none of the gang members save their leader could come uptown without creating a rumor or two." She shook her head as Mrs. Hudson appeared with the tea. She got up and carried a cup over before she began talking again.

"He told me that I would be in the gang under a false name and giving him reports of all gang activity down there. He said that he would rather have someone with more experience then I but, no one wanted to risk getting shot in the docks. He told me I couldn't trust anyone save him, the gang leader or his other contact." Claire gave a look at Holmes who only chuckled. "So, he introduced me to the Red Scarves leader, Jack Braceguard." Her eyes misted over briefly but she did not deter from her tale. "Jack was surprised and angry that I was going to be his go between Lestrade and the world of crime. But, I told him that I would prove myself like any other recruit would and that he shouldn't treat me special just because I was a lady." Claire began to chuckle at the thought.

Watson looked up at her laughing face, "What did you have to do to get into the gang?" He hoped it wasn't anything like having to kill a man or steal.

Claire smirked, "We had to do a series of tasks, and we had to shoot a line of beer bottles while being hackled. Then we had to steal something off of Jack's person and then my favorite part which was the fight between us recruits." Her smile grew wider as Watson's eyes did the same. Sherlock gave a great laugh, "That was certainly a fight to witness, indeed. Watson, you would have been proud of Miss. Watson's fighting technique." He stepped out of his favorite chair and began to pace.

"I will tell you now what I saw; Jack told me and the rest of the boys that there were some potential recruits coming to the docks. He told us to put them through the ringer as always, but I could tell he was nervous about having you there. Then, he told the recruits to come in, most were petty criminals, with ragged clothing and stolen goods. Then I saw Miss. Watson, she was dressed like a gypsy, complete with a wide blue sash around her waist. She was a little skinnier then she is now but she looked the part. We boys laughed it off that there was a gal in our midst." He took another draw from the pipe and continued pacing.

"Jack got them all in a line and showed them the line of bottles to be shot. They had to be six feet away and deal with us yelling and spitting at them. We went easy on the boys and when Miss. Watson stepped up with her pistol, we let her have it. We yelled at her until our throats grew sore and some even tried throwing broken bottles at. I tell you Watson, she didn't even flinch, and she shot them all in a row." He gave Claire a nod of respect before returning to his chair.

Watson turned towards his cousin who still had a smile on her face, "They were tame compared to the street boys who watched me practice. That practice is why I have all those calluses on my hands." She took off her glove to admire the thick skin on her hands. Watson looked them over; they were so tough and leathery for someone as young as she. He shook his head; she had known so much danger like he had in the war. It was true she was not a child anymore, but he couldn't help but wish her to be innocent once more. "Tell me about the fight with the recruits." He turned another page in his notebook, anxious to hear the next event.

Claire sat forward, "So, it was near eleven o'clock at night and there were only about five of us left. A good number left when they couldn't steal from Jack or shoot well enough. They put us in a ring that had sand on the floor. The only rules were no weapons and no hits below the belt." She rolled her head from side to side, letting it crack with ease. "I was not the best fighter, and I knew it. So, I made myself get into the middle, rather then the sides. I punched a lot of solar plexus to get by and I had to break a man's rib to get out of the hold he had me in." She shook her head and continued. "Then there was Greg, or at least I think that was his name. I can't remember much about him besides the fact he almost beat me." She looked over at Holmes who took his cue and stood up once more.

"Miss. Watson had successfully gotten most of the men out of her way by punching them in the side while they were preoccupied fighting another man. Now it was just her and this beast of a man named Greg. They were both slightly hurt; Greg had a bloody lip and a cracked rib on his right side. Miss. Watson had a bruise on the right side of her face from the giant Frank, the size of a coaster. He went for her first, tried to drive her against the edge of the ring, but she side-kicked his Achilles heel. He then punched her in the right eye, giving her a black eye. Miss. Watson then did him one better by punching him rapidly stomach, but that didn't do as much as we thought. He smacked her again, this time she got him in the jaw with a strong right cross." Holmes looked down at Watson who was trying to imagine the upright lady next to him in a brawl.

"He almost went down but swept his leg under hers and forced her into an arm lock of sorts. We thought he might break her arm when she managed to twist her arm out of his grip and stroke him where his rib was cracked." Holmes sat down and re-applied the tobacco from the slipper to his pipe. "She then got up and held her boot to his throat and asked him to either get up or to submit." Watson again let his mouth pop open in surprise that she could have withstood all that fighting.

Claire looked over at him, "I had to take him out with an upper-cut to the head in the end. Poor man was moping around for a week because a woman beat him in a fair fight." She began to chuckle again at the sight of her cousin clicking his tongue in disbelief. "I was so sore afterwards, that black eye took about a week to heal. Lestrade thought I had been kicked out when he first set eyes on me." Holmes joined in her laughter, as they began to spin a set of tales that Watson would never be able to forget. Things were back to normal, but the wheels of change were beginning to turn and there was no way to tell where it was going.


	2. Chapter 2

Knowing Too Much

Watson P.O.V

I walked into my doorway, glad to shrug off my heavy coat and sit in my parlor. The day had been cold and damp which made moving difficult. As I sat in front of the fireplace, I heard the sound of Mary behind me. She smiled as she kissed my briefly before sitting down beside me, "You poor man, the weather must be doing a number on that old war injury." She said softly rubbing my bad knee. I smiled and squeezed her hand before returning to face the fire.

"I feel a lot better now that I am here with you. I apologize for being late, Claire and Holmes had a tale to tell me." I couldn't believe how animated Claire had been when telling her fight with Greg. I still couldn't believe that this twenty-five year old woman had endured so much without me noticing. Part of me still saw a rebellious girl at our family gatherings who liked to ride horses and play rugby with the stable boys. I shook of the thought, there was so much I still didn't know about my own family and I was scared about what I would soon find underneath all those memories. I turned again to Mary, her blue eyes sparkling as she started to sew. I didn't see any harm in telling her one tale about Claire, they had only met briefly and I hoped for a friendship to develop. God knows Claire could use a good female role model. "Did you know that my cousin Claire used to work for Scotland Yard?" I raised an eyebrow in hope for a surprised look from Mary.

She did not disappoint, her eyes widened considerably. "No, I am very surprised to hear that John. Is the story she told you about that?" She was eager, and excited which only made my grin widen.

"Sort of, you see she was sort of an agent for Lestrade, and she got her big break working for a gang." As I began to weave this tale from my cousin's past, I began to wonder how she felt now that was all behind her.

Claire P.O.V

I sat behind the desk, glad to be done with the day's mail. Most of it had been rubbish but, I didn't mind the busy work. Telling that story made me miss those days again when I was a younger and more put together woman. I take a look over at Mr. Holmes; he was sitting in his chair like he had been doing all day, musing over the lack of cases. I wish there was a crime; it would give me plenty of distraction from the gripping loneliness I had been starting to feel. Ever since William, it had been hard for me to keep friends, especially with my bouts of paranoia. But, I was lucky enough to have gathered a select few people who helped me keep my spirits up and was there when I needed them. Especially my good friend Rebecca Jenkins, she worked in Whitehall and sympathized with my dark past. But, that is not the reason I became her friend, her presence makes me calm for some reason. She is an unending beacon of positive thinking and with her engagement to a Sir. Francis Xavier, I was afraid of losing her. Luckily, I was to go over to her country home this weekend.

I still needed to ask for leave from Mr. Holmes, since we didn't have any cases yet, I didn't think there would have been a problem. "Mr. Holmes, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me leaving for a few days. I have been invited out to the country by a friend, and since we don't have any cases..." I trailed off, knowing he would make some deduction about my friend or some such. I didn't mind his powers of observation, he had used them when we were in the gag together but I had been too busy to care. He looked up from glancing in the window at me, his green eyes boring into my blue ones.

"Of course, Miss. Watson, I hope you have a good holiday. I hope your friend's fiancé is a fine man." He gave me an encouraging smile which I found odd.

"Thank you Mr. Holmes, if a case falls into your lap, I am certain John can take over." I smiled slightly more as he kept his gaze on me. Mr. Holmes is a good man to work for, he is not the easiest but he is better then some. He nodded again and as I was about to take up the index he coughed and shook his head.

"Don't start updating that index again, Miss. Watson, it is too early in the New Year to start crossing off deaths. I would wait till March; crimes don't take much of a holiday." He got up and picked up his violin. He began playing aimlessly on it, creating a strange sound that I likened to cats caterwauling. I winced a bit, but did nothing to stop it, because I knew that when his mind was restless, he relied on a less then savory means. I had been tempted to use the drug, to get away from the nightmares, from when Jack died to when I was almost killed by Alexander. I would wake in a cold sweat and wish desperately for a warm shoulder to touch only to have nothing there. I knew that I chose this life and that it was better then what I could have had in the country. I was to be married off to the local lord when I took to my feet and ran off to London in search of something better. I had sacrificed so much to get where I was now, and looking back; I knew I would never change a thing.

Mr. Holmes must have noticed me retreat into my thoughts because he stopped wailing on the violin and stepped over to me. "Are you alright, Miss. Watson? You seem quieter then usual." His concern was surprising, and touching.

"I am quite alright Mr. Holmes, just thinking some things over. It is still a shock to me how much as past between the pair of us. I sometimes forget how much of my young life was spent in that pub." I shook my head, three years of underground work, all for a slap on the back and a cash bonus. I never cared about the reward; it was about doing good work out there for those who didn't have the means to do so. Mr. Holmes smirked as he sat in his chair and motioned for me to sit in the one opposite.

He lit a pipe and held my gaze of indifference, "I know, those years seemed long to you because it was your first taste of crime. For me, Miss. Watson, it was something different, since I was there only to satisfy a curiosity it doesn't hold the same with me. You see it as a memory of which you were, I just see it as another case." He waved his hand, directing the smoke away from me. "I know you want to impress the fact that you are an exceptional woman, but you do not need to try to impress me or your cousin. The stories of our exploits while entertaining, do not do much good except to enlighten Watson of how damaged you are." His tone was monotone, and I hated that he was rationalizing my motives to tell John my tales. I knew he was right in a way, I found myself feel better only if I kept showing how different I was. But, that difference is why I was so good at my job, I could escape what it meant to be a middle class girl for a bit and do something extraordinary.

I looked at my employer, wondering why he was bothering to tell me this. "Why are you concerned about this? I thought problems concerning women were beyond your expertise? Besides, it is not like I tried to hurt myself, bad things just happened to me." My thoughts drifted momentarily towards those fights, and that kidnapping that still made me scream at night. I pushed them down again, I would not become a victim of pity, I was a strong woman and I was going to persevere. Mr. Holmes touched my cheek with his hand, which made my mind snap back to reality.

"Since you are my employee, I must do my duty and care for my employee's problems. However, trivial they might be to be to figure out. Miss. Watson, I know you are a proud woman, and even stubborn but you must listen to reason. With all your efforts to air out the past, you are forgetting how it still controls you. You need to let it go, Miss. Watson, otherwise I don't see you remaining stable." His green eyes were so close, I could see my own trembling from the force of his tone. I was unsure what to do at first, my body wanted to slap him for trying to control me. But, I wanted him to understand, maybe to help me, he knew that I carried a heavy burden.

"You know as well as I with Alexander looking for me, there is no assurance of letting go of the past. As long as that man lives, my life is an ending maze where the turns could lead me to my grave." I sighed, Alexander had more of an interest in me than the man he worked for. I was glad only because that meant only a small portion of the gang was looking for me. "It won't be long until he figures out whom I am working for and will soon places a call to try and get you to roll on me, Mr. Holmes." My heart was beating in fear again, the last time I saw Alexander he tried and failed to shoot me while I jumped out of a cab. Mr. Holmes sighed and puffed away at his pipe as if the thought of Alexander here was laughable.

"You are true about that being the lynch-pin to you coming to full terms with the past. But, I give you my word if Alexander comes here I won't let any harm come to you or Watson. That man needs to be dealt with for what he has done, and with him gone Moriarty will have to come out of hiding." There was a flicker of fear in his gaunt face, but I ignored it. We both knew what that man was capable of. "Just to clear the air , Miss. Watson I was wondering if Moriarty ever...?" He left the words out of it, but I knew what he was getting at.

"Thank the lord no, he is rather like you in that regard Mr. Holmes. He never showed me the slightest attention, although he did have affection for Alexander that spooked me a bit." I shuddered at the thought. Alexander was charming when he needed to be, but I always saw him as a brother since I had been getting over the death of Jack. He was very popular with the ladies and from the mouths on the streets, with some of the lads as well. It didn't bother me who he was with, just the fact he seemed obsessed with finding me and adding me to his collection of women he had mentored. The problem was that he never taught me anything except to never trust anyone even those you work with. Mr. Holmes smiled and laughed, which made me jump a bit in surprise.

"Well, Miss. Watson, the hour is growing late and I know you have a train to catch tomorrow. Again, I wish you a good journey." He stood and bowed to me before sitting back down, a ghost of a smile still upon his face.

I smiled back, "Thank you Mr. Holmes, I know the country air will do me good. Thank you for your concern and wisdom they are always appreciated." I placed my hat on top of my head and bound my coat quickly. The night wind slapped me hard across the face as I ran to my flat to pack. I was glad that even for a moment, the burden of knowing too much had been lifted. I entered my room, glad to be indoors again and began to pack, ready to become one within society even if it was for a short while.


	3. Chapter 3

Society and Grace

Claire watched the country side pass her by as she sat in the train to Dorset. She was glad to get out of the city even if it meant being away from her cousin and Mr. Holmes. The Rolling Meadows and endless skies helped her breath easy, knowing that this weekend would do her some good. Finally, the train stopped at Weymouth, which was close enough to the shore to smell the sea. She stepped out, her blue pinstriped traveling dress fluttered in the breeze, and her brown hair almost blew out of its bun. Claire gathered her small suitcase and was about to start walking when she heard her name being called. She turned to see a short but thin woman with black hair and grey eyes waving to her. "Claire, over here!" She called, smiling broadly. Claire didn't hesitate and ran towards her good friend Rebecca Jenkins.

"Claire, I'm so glad you made it! Was the train ride alright? I imagine the winter weather might have slowed you down." Rebecca hugged her friend and then motioned for her driver to get Claire's bag.

Claire returned the hug courteously, "I'm glad to be here Rebecca; the ride wasn't too bad at all. It was a bit slower than normal, but the conductor warned us about possible rock slides blocking our path. Am I the first one here or are there others still arriving?" Claire inquired, hoping she wasn't late. Rebecca shook her head and then led her to the buggy.

"Oh no need to explain, I know how strong a hold London can have. You are the third to arrive, Sir. Gerald and his wife arrived late last night and our dear friend Harold arrived earlier this morning. Katherine and Vivian told me they may be running late, and Mrs. Thornberry will be here after tea." Rebecca explained as her driver led them inside the comfortable carriage and started off.

Claire smiled at the thought of the many interesting people gathering for Rebecca's engagement party. She knew everyone attending well enough, especially Harold Firth, he and Rebecca knew him through Whitehall. He was a charming man, his wife Grace was just as nice although very sickly, and so Claire almost never saw her. Then there was Mrs. Thornberry, Claire and she never got along too well, since she thought Claire was a rebel and a detriment to society. Claire tried her best to avoid her, and when she had to converse with her, she was on her best behavior. Sir. Gerald was a bit rough and stern but his wife Nora helped smooth out anything upsetting he might say or do. "How is Sir. Xavier doing, by the way? I heard that he might be getting promoted soon." Claire finally asked as they were bumped around on the gravel road.

Rebecca smiled earnestly, "Francis is doing well, and he is excited for the wedding in the summer. If he is getting promoted he didn't mention it this morning, it may just be a new assignment. Did I tell you that he is going to try for that position in Parliament?" Rebecca seemed to be glowing from the very thought.

Claire shook her head, surprised, "I had no idea he had those kinds of ambitions. I bet he would be a great addition to the government, he has the knack for negotiating." Claire smiled, trying to be supportive. It wasn't that she didn't like Sir. Xavier, it was just she disliked having her good friend move away from London. Rebecca nodded and began divulging her wedding plans and how Claire must be part of it at some point. Claire resisted at first, but then accepted the position of being her matron of honor. The coach finally reached the manor, and Claire almost gasped to see the size of it. It was one fourth the size of Kensington Palace, made of red brick that had gables and tall windows all around. The driver helped them out and opened the doors into the entryway.

Rebecca led her towards her room, still smiling, "I know you wanted a room with windows that locked. I hope you like it, when you are done there is tea in the sitting room." She motioned towards the room that was down the stairs and to the left. Claire nodded, and rested her suitcase on the bed. She went quickly over to the windows, they overlooked part of the grounds, and they did have locks. She struggled to put the locks in place, but it was better to be safe. Claire unpacked and then put her room key on her necklace, and hung it on her neck. She made sure the key rested underneath her clothes. She smiled at her level of preparation and silently closed her door, and walked downstairs to the sitting room.

Back in London

Sherlock Holmes sat in the rooms of Baker Street, unsure what to do about the sudden stillness in his office. His assistant was gone for two days in the country, and part of him missed seeing her there at the other desk. He would never admit to missing a woman of course,he was too stubborn for that. There was also the lack of a puzzling case for his mind to solve. He** had** to work otherwise he would have to resort to other means to stimulate his brain. There was always the prospect of the syringe in his drawer, for some reason he had not needed it for some time. The detective deduced it was due to the eternal mystery that was Miss. Watson. Just when he had her figured out, there was another facet of her personality hiding under her mask of good manners.

Sherlock did not have long to muse these thoughts, Dr. Watson came in before he could start his process. "Good morning Holmes, I see Claire has left for the country. I am glad she makes time for her friend who lives far away. I think it's good for her to try and be part of society. Don't you agree Holmes?

Holmes arched a brow at his good friend, "Miss. Watson, I think likes society as long as it is with small groups. With large functions like balls, I do not see her able to focus or be sociable. She would be too nervous of the sheer amount of people there. Plus, there is always the fear of seeing her ex-lover Mr. Gardnier." He sneered at the thought of William, that man was too proud and ambitious for his taste. He did not know what Miss. Watson's logic was in courting him in the first place. She seemed very smart about courting men, but then again everyone had their weakness. He deduced that her heart was hers.

Watson took in his friend's opinion as he sat down on the couch and began to read the paper, "Well, I think she will get along fine with the others up there. Until she returns, what do you say to dinner at Simpsons followed by a concert? It will be like old times!" John was excited at the prospect of having Holmes to himself without having to worry about Claire.

Holmes glanced at his over eager friend, " I suppose dinner at Simpson's would be pleasant, as for the concert, I have no desire for it. There are none playing now that would take care of my restlessness." He really didn't want to go anywhere, he wanted to evaporate into the cocaine in his desk. But, he knew Watson would not allow it. Watson nodded and then strode closer to his friend.

"Holmes, I know how you don't like being unoccupied but, please don't result to the drug. You are the smartest man I know, don't throw it away on something like this. We both need you here, Claire I know care for you even if she never shows it. She values your prescence in her life, you are helping her heal the wounds of the past. If she ever sees you on your bad days, it will undo all the healing that has happened."

Sherlock looked at his friend, confused at the words he was speaking. "I am in control of my need for the drug, I do not need it as of yet. As for your cousin, it does not concern me how you think she is doing. You only see what you wish Watson, true she has healed somewhat but, there is something still that is holding her back. As long as that force doesn't stop her from working, I don't care what happens to her." He was backing away from the feelings he had for Claire, he was rationalizing and analyzing them like a puzzle. He had come to the conclusion that she was a remarkable lady, but he still couldn't get past the fact that there had been a moment where they had been close. They had been like proper friends in the gang and then Jack was killed and they broke apart. Now, he was unsure that wouldn't happen again and he was not about to test it.

Watson glared at his friend, "Holmes, I know are lying about not caring. I don't care what your reason is, but I hope you realize that deep down you do. And that she trusts you with her life, which is something she hasn't done in a long time. But, I will leave this alone for now, I don't want to get angry and say something rash." The doctor sat back down and drank his brandy. He hated how thickheaded Holmes could be. Especially about Claire, he hoped that his cousin would be a good influence on Holmes. Between the pair of them, the detective and the former spy and encountered enough pain, and death that they could relate on a level he could not fathom.

Holmes was about to send another retort towards Watson, but gave up. _You know he is right _his heart seemed to say, but Holmes pushed the voice away with his mind. He picked up the agony columns in hope for some form of escape and smiled when he found it.

AN: I Decided to re-do this chapter. The fiance being a murderer seemed too conventional for my taste. Please R&R!


	4. Chapter 4

Not Pretty

Dorset

Claire sat in the sitting room, sipping tea as Rebecca regaled her meeting Sir. Xavier to the party. She smiled but inside Claire's heart was heavy, she had been engaged once, but Jack was dead. Sir. Gerald's wife Nora who was dressed in a light green day dress, sat beside Claire. "You seem pale, Claire are you alright?" Nora was only thirty, but she seemed younger. Her blond hair was done up in a tight bun on the back of her head.

Claire sighed, "I will be alright Nora, and I am just remembering my fiancé. I would have been married for five years by now..." She trailed off, in hope that the subject would be dropped. Unfortunately, Mrs. Thornberry had heard Claire's secret and raised her voice above all those assembled.

"I remember that Miss. Jenkins told me you were engaged to a young man about five years ago. What was he chap's name?" Mrs. Thornberry's tone seemed nice but, Claire didn't like her horning in.

Claire stayed on the couch, and turned to face everyone who all looked intrigued. "His name was Jack Braceguard." Claire kept her eyes fixed on Rebecca who nodded and clasped her fiancé's hand.

"Whatever happened to the engagement? You are still unmarried, as I see you are not wearing a ring." Mrs. Thornberry's lofty tone was beginning to annoy Claire, but she ignored her.

Claire took a deep breath, "Well, we were leaving a show at the theatre and we were walking home. Jack wanted to take a shortcut to get to the cab, and I agreed. We were about halfway through when we were confronted by a gunman. The criminal wanted our purses which Jack gave him, but then the crazed man tried to grab my necklace. Jack jumped in front of me and punched the man. The mugger got angry and shot Jack in the chest, he ran off after I screamed. Jack died in my arms that night." Claire gritted her teeth through that lie, in hope that all bought it. Nora did and expressed her sympathies as did Harold Firth. Sir. Gerald took a deep whiff of his pipe before he spoke.

"Sounds like a stand up lad, he would have done well if he been in my old regiment. I am sorry you lost such a man to a mugger." Sir. Gerald sounded empathetic which surprised Claire but she thanked him none the less. Mrs. Thornberry gave a sort of huff sound, which Claire knew was all the sympathy she was going to get from that old broad. Rebecca called for a card game and they all soon forgot about Claire's old flame Jack. While she was dealing, Mrs. Thornberry began to speak to Claire.

"So, Miss. Watson have you thought about courting again? It's been long enough, and you are still a pretty young lady. I have a nephew who I should introduce you to." Mrs. Thornberry smiled thinly.

Claire looked up from her hand, "I have not had the time to even consider courting again. Jack's death was very hard for me to get past. I have my work to focus on, but thank you for thinking of me Mrs. Thornberry. When I am ready to court, I will write to you." Claire's tone was firm but polite, as a gentle way to tell the older woman to be quiet. Mrs. Thornberry nodded and continued to deal.

After cards, Claire decided to go upstairs and relax in the study. She didn't mind socializing but she was tired of having to evade Mrs. Thornberry. Gatherings like these made her uncomfortable, since she always had to put on a mask to fool those around her that she was fine. Claire's eyes scanned the many books in the study and lit up when she found a copy of Middlemarch by George Eliot and began devouring it immediately. This was her ideal way to relax, by reading a good novel by a fire. As she turned a page, in the back of her mind Claire began to wish a certain detective was there with her.

Meanwhile, in London...

Sherlock Holmes sat at his favorite table at Simpson's opposite his best friend, Dr. Watson. He looked around, it was a busy night for the restaurant and he observed the other diners. A couple to his far left were arguing about something involving money, by the state of the man's tailcoat he could tell it was the man's fault. He deduced it was either a gambling or a loss of employment. His hazel eyes focused on a solitary man that sat near the door, the man was older and was stooped over his bowl of soup. The man's eyes which were grey looked tired like his own. Yet, there they both were, dining when they wanted to be somewhere else. Watson coughed as he lit a cigar, and pushed back his empty plate. He noticed his friend's duck had been barely touched, and invited him to bring Holmes back to the real world. "Holmes, is there something wrong with the duck? You've barely had any to eat." Watson motioned to the dish, as if to entice his friend.

Holmes's attention snapped back to his well intentioned friend, "There is nothing wrong with the duck; it is always done well here. I just lack the necessary appetite my old friend. I wish to return to Baker Street and end this evening." Holmes lit a cigarette to cement his rationale. Watson nodded and called for the waiter who then came with the bill. It was Holmes's turn to pay, which he did so without ceremony. Holmes felt apart from the goings on as the two men left and headed for a cab. He hated it when his mind was uneasy like it always was when there was a lull in cases. But, for some reason his mind was focusing on his female assistant, Claire Watson. His mind was bent of figuring her out, because he thought she would be easy like her cousin but she had proven him wrong. Sherlock hid a smile at the thought of her rebellious nature, especially when it concerned law enforcement. The cab jerked, which forced him to realize they were in front of Baker Street. He departed, "Goodnight Watson, give my best to Mrs. Watson." He said hurriedly; ready to get back to his rooms.

Watson watched him leave and shook his head in defeat, Holmes was going to use the syringe at some point, and he was frightened that one day Holmes would use too much and die. He couldn't bear to think of how that would go over with him or Claire for that matter. The doctor shook his head to dismiss the thought; instead he focused on his loving wife at home. Holmes strode into the study, confidant for what he was about to do. His heart jumped at the prospect of having that cold needle caress his skin. His thin hands twitched slightly as he opened the drawer that contained the syringe.

As he tightened his belt around his forearm, his usually silent heart began to remind him of the effect this drug would have on Claire. At first, the thought stopped him in motion; Miss. Watson looked to him for his unchanging persona along with his logic. With the cocaine in his system, she would see that he was human and like all had his secrets. In a way he wanted her to see him like that, so that she would cease to praise him in her interaction with him. It confused his heart to see her laughing with him at criminals and the police force. No woman before her had been so like him, he always thought it was impossible for a woman to be that skillful. Yet, there she was a defiant woman of her generation. He smirked openly, as he looked down at the naked needle; he closed the drawer with a slam and undid his belt. It would do no harm to wait to use the drug; he picked up the violin instead. He began playing on it listlessly, letting his mind revel in its new occupation. Figuring out how his assistant worked and he knew he was going to find out no matter what. The detective began to chuckle, he knew it wasn't going to be pretty but it was going to be an investigation that he would never forget.


	5. Chapter 5

Surprise, Surprise

Claire was glad to be back in London, her weekend in the country was reviving yet trivial. She had not received a telegram from either her employer or her cousin, so she assumed that all was well. The weekend in Dorset made her realize how important Mr. Holmes's presence was to her healing from the scars of the past. Her heart leaped at the prospect of a new case as she ascended the steps of Bakerstreet. She opened the door, beaming only to be confronted with the prostrate body of Sherlock Holmes. She rushed to him, thinking he was dead, but saw him stir before she could cross the room. Claire took off her coat and sidled up to his side, she was aware that he was in a dressing gown on top of his regular clothes. He looked like any normal man, his head tilted to one side, casting a grey shade on the rest of him. Claire didn't want to wake him, but she had to know whether or not he was alright. "Mr. Holmes..." She whispered into his ear, in hope that he would wake.

At first he did not stir but he batted at an invisible fly and opened his eyes. His green eyes were blurred and soon became focused on the feminine form that was before him. He got up with great fervor and forced himself against the wall in surprise. "Miss. Watson, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Dorset, sipping tea?" His heart was starting to race again from the sight of her so close to him.

Claire rolled her eyes at his surprise, "I thought you would remember that I said I would be gone for only two days. It felt like two weeks to be honest with you, I am glad to be back in Bakerstreet once more." Claire was surprised he had forgotten, it was very unlike him to be surprised by anything. She narrowed her eyes at him as she paced around the room. "You seem out of sorts this morning Mr. Holmes, what has happened?" Claire ceased pacing but remained in front of the detective.

Holmes sneered as he lit a cigarette, "Of course, how silly of me to have forgotten. Forgive me for my reaction, Miss. Watson. I am unaccustomed to waking up and suddenly seeing a pretty young woman next to me." Holmes pushed back the folds of his dressing gown, now embarrassed for his lack of decorum.

Claire smiled, "It's quite alright Mr. Holmes, I would have done the same in your position. I was going to come later, but I missed this place so I got here early." She motioned towards the clock, which read half past nine. The young took her place behind the desk, and began the process of opening the mail that had arrived. After tossing a few letters that were mere fan mail, she smiled to see a note from Lestrade. "We should be expecting Inspector Lestrade soon; he said there is a case that might interest you." Claire handed the note to her employer who stared at it like it was a sacred text.

Holmes smirked, "I hope this case presents somewhat of a challenge, my mind has been starving for stimulation." He looked from the note to the clock; they had two hours before the inspector arrived. That was ample time to deduce about the assistant sitting to his left. He drew another drag from his cigarette as he poured himself a cup of tea. Holmes's eyes centered on Claire's face, ready to dive in, "Miss. Watson, I was hoping you would be willing to indulge me in providing me some answers to questions about your character." Holmes's tone was quiet but firm.

Claire looked up from a letter from a former client, her brow arched in surprise. "As much as I would like to, I can't help but wonder what your motivation is Mr. Holmes. I have been your assistant for a few years now, what is with this sudden urge to understand me?" Claire squared her shoulders and honed her focus on Holmes.

Sherlock took a step closer to his assistant, "You are mistaken, Miss. Watson I don't want to understand you. I need only to be able to judge you accurately." Holmes blew a stream of smoke to the side, with the knowledge that she would be affronted.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him, "Are you trying to get an emotional rise out of me, Mr. Holmes? Because if you are, I am sorry to inform you that it won't work. I have trusted you with sensitive information about my past already. But, please continue with your inquiry." Claire's heart felt heavy to be questioned with so little civility.

Holmes stared into her blue eyes; he could see the hurt in them though she did best to hide it. "Why did you start courting William Gardiner? He seems to be so different from your previous relationship with Jack Braceguard. He is proud, conservative and not to mention a liar and a cheat." Holmes kept his tone civil, for he knew that he had to be careful.

The young lady gave a deep sigh, "I don't know how to answer that question anymore. A few years ago I would have said it was because I was tired of carrying the weight of Jack's death and I wanted an escape from it. But, now I consider that it was because I was so broken from dealing with Jack and the betrayal from Alexander that I was willing to look beyond all of William's faults. He was a gentlemen to me at first and didn't require too much of me. I was numb to everything, his family's disapproval of me and how I was an outsider. I was glad to hear about the affair, because it gave me leave to wake up from the trance I was in." Claire exhaled and strode towards the window. She wasn't sad anymore, she was glad to get this out in the open at long last. Claire looked back at her employer, his green eyes shining in indifference.

Holmes snorted, "So you admit that this love for William was never genuine, that makes the situation between you two a lot clearer. Now, tell me was Alexander's betrayal that surprising?" He held her gaze, surprised how laid back she was acting.

Claire broke off the deep gaze from her employer, "No, he wasn't getting my full attention or cooperation. I had just had my world shattered by Moriarty; I just wanted to throw myself into my work. I thought if I did that job, I could forget about the pain I was feeling. As long as I kept busy, I could keep my heart out of the equation. You should know all about that Mr. Holmes." Claire felt her shell of relaxation break and she began to shake. She couldn't stop herself from letting these emotions that she was so successful at holding, finally break free. Her tears began falling fast, and she forgot that her employer was watching her carefully. "Alexander...used my emotions against me...he knew how to phrase a situation so that I would feel bad for something that was his fault. He had so much control over my actions... until it was too late. He shot me in a cab...because I was digging too deep." Claire wept into her hands, now embarrassed that she was vulnerable in front of Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes was taken back by the sudden onslaught of tears and emotion from his assistant, he wanted to reach out and comfort her. But, no that was wrong; to comfort her would let her know he cared for her. Holmes's mind was trying harder then it had with Irene Adler, but his heart was directing the detective towards Claire. He forced her to stand and lifted her chin with his hand. "You are not to blame for Alexander's treachery, he did that on his own. You freed yourself from his control, which I know takes courage. You will get your chance to be free of him and the rest of that gang, you have my word." Holmes gazed into her eyes to cement his words. She looked back through her tears and smiled at Holmes. Without another word, she hugged him, and let her head come to rest on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You have no idea how much weight that has been lifted from my mind and heart. I will be with I will be with you every step of the way to bring Alexander to justice." Claire smiled in spite of the fact that she had been crying.

Holmes was caught off guard by her hug and wasn't sure how to react. He let himself relax and let his arms encircle her back. He was about to speak when they heard a rough cough behind them. He looked up to see none other than Inspector Lestrade standing in the doorway. Instead of springing apart from his assistant, he let her break the hug and turn around. His mind was of course reeling from being caught but he didn't let it show. Lestrade moved into the room, wary of what he just walked into.

"I apologize for interrupting, but I thought you should know about this right away. There has been a murder on the richer side of town. The victim is a Mr. Donald Burke, he was killed on his way home from being at his club. I thought it might have been a mugging gone bad but he still had his money with him. I hoped that you could come down and shed some light on it." Lestrade shifted his weight uncomfortably as he looked from Claire to Holmes.

Holmes shrugged, "I hope you haven't moved the body yet. Since my plate is clear, I will come down and assist the best way I can. We will fetch Dr. Watson on our way, I need his services." He motioned for Claire to prepare to leave and as he shrugged on his coat, he couldn't help but feel glad to move on from that moment. He didn't want to admit it but he enjoyed that fleeting feeling he had when Miss. Watson hugged him. His razor sharp mind turned on before he could decide what that feeling had been. Claire rubbed her eyes as she placed her hat on her head and headed for the door in front of the Inspector. There was a case, and she couldn't be happier that it had occurred.

The cab ride was quiet, Lestrade was too afraid of talking to Claire for he was still afraid she would bring up her past. He felt bad for the young lady, but he felt that things should be square between the two of them. As the cab stopped, Holmes strode out glad to be on the hunt once again. Back in the cab, Claire spoke, "Giles, how has your wife been doing? I hear the children are keeping her busy." Claire's tone was light and airy.

Lestrade was silent for a moment, unsure how to answer her. "She is holding up well enough. I know she misses me when I leave at odd hours but, our boy John has been keeping her busy." Lestrade was surprised still that Claire was behaving normally. The inspector shook off his thoughts as Watson and Holmes reentered the cab.

The doctor smiled to see Claire sitting opposite him, but then he recognized her eyes were red and puffy. He looked from her to Holmes, distressed at what could have occurred between them. "Claire what is the matter? You look unwell." Watson scooted forward to take a better look at his cousin's face.

Claire looked back at him, indifferent to his concern. "I am quite well, John. I just had an unexpected reaction to some news that is all. But, please do not pester me about it." She crossed her arms and looked out the cab window.

Watson sat back and looked at Holmes, "Would you care to shed any light on this Holmes?" The doctor hoped Holmes hadn't yelled at Claire or done something drastic.

Holmes turned slightly to look at his friend, "If Miss. Watson does not wish to tell you then it is not my duty to reveal it. I am not one for divulging unless it has to do with a case." Holmes was desperately trying to lock away the feeling of comfort he felt when he hugged Claire. The cab jerked as it stopped in front of the alley, and the troop entered the narrow space.

The victim lay on the gravel, covered with a sheet from the coroner as a constable kept watch. Holmes crouched down and removed the sheet to reveal a older man's head; his face was pale in contrast to his dark hair. As Holmes examined the body and the surrounding area, Claire kept a watchful eye on the street before them. It was along a side street, so it was possible for someone to be killed with no witnesses. But, then again there was plenty of people who passed this way so there had to someone who heard a shout or something. Such was Claire's thinking as she approached Lestrade.

"What time was he found in the alley?" Claire asked him, unaware that Watson was watching her intently.

The inspector flipped through his notes and shrugged, "He was found by young gentleman this morning at about seven o'clock. Why does that matter?" Lestrade was confused that Claire was asking questions like she was in charge.

Claire looked at the body and its relation to the main sidewalk. "Because if he was killed sometime in the night, I would think someone would have heard him. This area is fairly populated, and since he is visible from the street, I am surprised no one reported him earlier." She put one hand on her hip, in hope that this case was worth her energy.

Lestrade was about to answer her when Holmes interrupted him, "You know as well as I do Miss. Watson, that it is possible for people to turn a blind eye to murder. Someone may have heard something but they probably don't want to be mixed in with this. You can take away the body, Lestrade." Holmes wrote a few things down and turned towards the good doctor Watson. "Tell us Doctor, what time do you perceive that Mr. Burke was killed?"

Watson took a look at the body and the temperature, and sighed. "He was killed between 10pm and 1am last night, that's the best I can do now. To get a better time I would need the autopsy report." Watson shook his head at the dead man and let the coroner take the body away.

Holmes then turned to Lestrade who was instructing the constable. "Tell me Lestrade, where is the gentleman who reported the body?" His hazel eyes glinted in the sun.

The inspector shrugged, "Sent him on his way after he answered all the constable's questions. I have the answers for you, if you want them. The man was cutting through the alley to catch a cab, and almost stumbled on the body." Lestrade hoped that letting the boy go was the right thing to do.

Holmes looked at the scrawled answers and then at the inspector, "This Mr. Roberts knows more than he is telling, I want you to find him and bring him to me." He gave the notes back to Lestrade who was taken back. Claire was about to suggest that the interview be done at Scotland Yard, when she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

"Good to see that you came to witness my handiwork, Claire." He snarled into her ear, and his right hand closed on her arm. He whirled her around, making her face him. His tawny hair had more grey in it now, and his wicked grey eyes pierced her soul. Claire could say nothing, her mouth opened but nothing came out. She was paralyzed with fear and could only prey someone would look her way.

The gentleman smiled wickedly, his thin frame clothed in a dark brown suit and matching bowler. "I knew sooner or later that we would cross paths again. I must say I am a little disappointed it took you this long to run into me." The man took a step forward to touch her cheek, but Claire stepped back.

"You have spent too many hours on orchestrating this murder to find me. Once you shot me you severed whatever bonds we had. If you are the murderer, Mr. Holmes will find you and see you are hanged for the countless deaths you have done." Claire had found her voice at last, was not going to spare him.

The man chuckled, "I have no doubt that your precious employer will solve this murder, but I doubt he can tie it to me. As for you and me, Claire you can't think I will let you walk away. I have my own employer to keep happy and he wants me to keep an eye on you." The stranger tipped his hat and then walked into the teeming crowd. Holmes appeared behind Claire's left shoulder, and stared at the man's back.

"So, that was the one and only Alexander Knight, he is older then you described him." Holmes observed as the brown suited man disappeared from view.

Claire turned to him, "He just looks that way, the man has gone grey early in life. I would bet its working for the professor that has done it. Take note Mr. Holmes, next time I see that man, I aim to kill him." Claire glared at the direction he went and then turned back towards the body.

Holmes spoke again as they walked, "Miss. Watson, next time you two meet I doubt you will get the chance to shoot him. You will have to prevent others from doing it before you." The detective caught a smile from his assistant, and couldn't help but share her fervor. They were going to find the murderer, no matter what surprises lay before them.


	6. Chapter 6

Back to Back

A man walked into an old house that had fallen into disrepair and was now vacant. He walked down the dusty stairs until he came to a heavy wooden door. He knocked and a voice issued forth from it, "Who is it?" it asked gruffly.

"Grant it is me Walter, I brought the stuff you needed." The man called Reggie spoke to the door. The door swung open to reveal a dank cellar, it had but one window that the sun was streaming through. The sunlight hit the center of the room where two chairs were positioned; in them were a man and a woman. Both looked to be sleeping at first glance, but upon closer inspection the man had a bruise from being hit and the woman had the same markings. Walter strode over to the pair to make certain that they were tied to the chairs tightly. Grant, the man at the door shook his head at the captives.

"They ain't getting up anytime soon. I had to hit them him with a candlestick to get him out. That bitch punched me and kicked me in the tender regions, she would have gotten away if the boss hadn't shown up. He shut her up right and then got me to tie them up here until he comes again. Tell you what Walter, this professor ain't a bad chap to work fer. Now let's see what you brought me." Grant motioned Walter over to a workbench that had a few tools on it. Walter brought the heavy sack from over his shoulder, and brought it down with a thump. He brushed his hands on his tan shirt, and waited for the reaction from Grant.

On the workbench lay a few bottles of port, a saw, as well as some more rope. Now there was black powder and matches, all fit to blow the old house to pieces. Grant clapped Walter on the back, streaking dust over the portly man's back. The two villains shared the port as they waited for the man and woman to wake. Minutes turned to hours, and soon both Grant and Walter were anxious that neither had woken.

Walter neared the woman, her head was lax against her chest and her hair had fallen out of her bun. He pushed up her head, afraid that the boss could have killed her by accident. Instead he felt the weight of her breath on him, she was alive still. "Should I slap her awake, Grant and let you give her a punch?" Walter turned to ask his pal. Instead Grant shook his head and motioned to the upstairs.

"Don't bother, lets go up for a bite to eat. The boss won't know and those two can't get anywhere anyway." Grant opened the heavy door and led his friend up the stairs towards a pub for a good bite of grub and some port. There was stillness in the cellar, where sunlight had shone there was only the light of the gas lamp that stood nearby. The lamp flickered as the sounds of night filled the room. Then suddenly as if coming up for air, the lady's eyes flew open, and she began to hyperventilate.

Claire Watson had been awake for the past three hours, she was hungry but fear had crippled her. She had no notion of where she was besides the fact she was still in London. The young lady's mind was racing, as it tried to remember what had occurred. Mr. Holmes had caught a break in the case and had successfully linked Alexander to the murder of Mr. Burke. She and Mr. Holmes were talking strategy when a man entered into Bakerstreet and tried to assault Holmes. She had punched him hard but, he started for Holmes who was hit by a candlestick on the head. Alexander then came and distracted her while his ally hit her with the same candlestick. Claire took a few deep breaths and looked up at Mr. Sherlock Holmes who was sitting across from her. To see him asleep made him seem fragile yet calming to her, and as she inched near him Claire's heart began to pound. She needed him awake and this was the only way without raising suspicion. His breath was hot across her cheek and smelt faintly of tobacco, which made her smile. She loved the smell and let it wash over her as she kissed him squarely on the lips.

Holmes's eyes snapped open at the sudden feel of skin upon his own. The detective's mind was sent reeling as Claire sank back into her chair. He wanted to yell at her for her impertinence but this was not the time. They were tied in chairs in a strange part of town, his assistant was attempting to remain sane as she looked straight at him. "How long have they been gone, Miss. Watson?" He inquired after a long silence had past.

Claire snapped to attention, "They have been gone for about fifteen minutes I gather. I doubt they will be back anytime soon, Mr. Holmes. One of them, I think called Grant mentioned drinks. We need to leave before they get back and realize we are awake." Claire was talking quickly, her paranoia had taken hold of her. She needed to be outside to orient herself, once outside she would know where to run to. Claire knew every street, alley and dock in London and was glad to be with a good runner. She began to pull at her bonds at her feet which were not tied as tight.

Holmes watched her successfully untie her legs, "I hope you are right Miss. Watson, now if you would be so kind to turn your chair." Holmes's head ached horribly from the blow he had received. As his assistant turned her chair, his eyes focused on the knot that bound her hands. With considerably effort he had his mouth at the knot and with muttered curse words at the knot he freed her. Claire clapped her hands in celebration and untied her employer's hands as quick as she could. Holmes stood and looked around the cellar they were held in, making knocks against the wall and looking up at the window. After a few minutes he motioned to Claire, "The best way out is that window, that or we will have to blow a hole in that wall." He motioned to the far right.

Claire lifted a chair and stuck it underneath the window, she was trembling now and it would only be a matter of time until she would grow hysterical. "Let's be off, I can't stand to be cooped like an animal." She let Holmes give her a boost as she kicked the window and crawled through it. She stood and looked at the grounds around her, ready to find a route to safety. Claire stood at the back of the abandoned house, in front of her was a large brick building. She supposed it was a storage building, in the distance she heard the sound of laughter coming from the east. Claire edged around the house until she could get a clear sight of the street, it was dimly lit, but she could see people in the distance. Mostly poor folk, she saw the pub to the south and the sounds of raucous laughter.

Holmes came up behind her and after a minute he spoke, "We are standing in one of the poorer sections of town. That pub I believe is called the Nag's Head, so that means we need to head on that street to get to safety." Holmes took Claire by the wrist like a babe and dragged her to the next building. There they waited, Claire's trembling went away for now she knew where they were. The pair of them was about fifteen miles away from Bakerstreet, but they only needed to get out of Cheapside. " Are you able to come along quietly Miss. Watson? I don't want to have to carry you all the way back." Holmes's mind was set on escaping cleanly, while his heart was beating for an entirely different reason.

Claire nodded, "Yes, Mr. Holmes I am better now, let's move quietly." She followed his lead as they crossed the street and headed through an alley towards the main road. Claire cautiously stuck her head out of the darkened alley to make sure it was clear. As she stepped out, she heard the sounds of drunken laughter heading their way. Claire's heart pounded in her chest as the laughter grew louder and louder, she bit her lip and made a dash across the street to a street lamp. Holmes watched how the lamplight played on her dirty purple day dress and how frightened she looked. His heart lurched at the hopelessness she showed as the two drunken louts approached her.

At first they didn't notice the woman, but then one of them caught sight of her in the corner of his eye and ambled over to her. "Hey there sweetheart, fancy a kiss?" He mumbled at Claire, his brown eyes hovering over her body.

Claire backed away, her blue eyes wide with fright, "I am sorry but, I have a sweetheart already, love. See, that's him and if you are smart you will keep walkin'." Claire pointed to Holmes who came out of the shadows to address the situation. Holmes's clothes were just as dusty as the drunkards but his hair was still slick. He strode over with a cocky gait as if he were a man of ill repute.

Holmes came to Claire's side and look over the two men, both were very drunk and looked like they were about to topple over. "This here is my gal, Mary and she ain't a harbor trollop. Now, git before I have to show ya some respect." Holmes took hold of her waist which made Claire's heart jump. The drunks looked from Holmes to Claire, as if to decide if they were indeed sweethearts.

"I think you are bluffin', this Mary is coming with us." One punched the other in the shoulder and they laughed at the pair.

Holmes sneered at them, "You call this bluffin'?" Holmes turned to Claire and kissed her fervently. Holmes's heart was thundering inside him as his mind remained calm and collected. It was only a distraction, nothing more. Her lips were dry from lack of water, and as his tongue parted her lips, he heard a gasp escape from Claire. She let her arms encircle his neck, and let her leg rise around his waist. As quickly as it had begun, the pair parted slowly, their eyes smoldering from the kiss.

Claire turned in defiance towards the scum whose faces were lax with surprise. After a murmur of apology they slunk back to where they came. There was now silence between the detective and his assistant, Claire's mind was reeling from the sudden kiss as well as the feeling inside her that was growing. "That was good of you to think on your feet, Mr. Holmes. I was unsure what they would do to me if I did not involve you." Claire said letting the embarrassment show in her cheeks.

Holmes snorted, "I did not want you to have to fight those men, Miss. Watson, so I did the next best thing. But, let us not speak of this until we reach safety." Holmes was glad to be rid of the silence, it had led his heart temporary control and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. The detective led his assistant through the alleyways of London, all the while trying to come up for a logical explanation. Miss. Watson kissed him back to sell the mirage that they were a couple, but that gasp of pleasure concerned him. He was certain no one apart from him heard it, so why did she gasp at all? Maybe, she was trying to tell him something, but no that was impossible. She was his assistant, and there was her cousin the Doctor. If anything happened between them Watson would never forgive him. Then there was the fact that Claire like all women would try to change his habits and he wouldn't have that.

Claire followed Holmes, glad to be free of those vagrants. Her own mind was mulling over the situation, it may have been an act but her heart didn't think that there wasn't something more behind it. The feel of his tongue in her mouth made her gasp because of the sheer shock that he of all men would make her heart leap and her skin warm. But, he was the infamous Sherlock Holmes, cold and calculating. He never fell prey to feelings of love besides those brief affairs that Watson told her about. She needed a man who would be comforting as well as loving and Holmes was not that man. Claire's mind was determined to cast these romantic notions out of her, despite the pangs of her heart. As they climbed a hill and rounded a corner, the front of a bank seemed like a finish line. Holmes searched his pockets for money for a cab fare, and in finding none he led Claire onwards.

Claire couldn't help but smile as she saw a butcher shop, "I have never been happier to see a familiar storefront, but it means we are nearly home." Her mind meant to say 'Bakerstreet' but it slipped.

Holmes smirked as he let go of her wrist and together they ran towards Bakerstreet, which was brightly lit as if the flat was signaling them home. As they climbed the stairs, Claire could not help but revel in the familiar smell of tobacco. Mrs. Hudson who heard them on the stair wailed at their state of dress and hugged them both tightly. "My god, I thought you were both dead! Thank the lord you are here, Mr. Holmes, this place has had more constables then one would like. Doctor Watson has been trying to find you; I finally got him to sleep in the spare room. Do you want me to fetch him?" The older woman looked at the tired faces of her tenant and his companion.

Holmes shook his head, "Not just yet, let him sleep. Now, would you please fetch Miss. Watson and I some dinner and tea I would be grateful Mrs. Hudson." The detective placed a hand on the widow who at once went to the kitchen. He opened the door to the study and had to stop himself from darting for his favorite chair. As the detective shrugged on his robe, he could not help but feel like there was still much to do.

Claire sat on the couch with her legs curled up beside her, the day had been tiring and all she wanted was some food and sleep. But, there was a killer and now kidnapper on the loose and they had to catch him before anything between her and Holmes would be dealt with. "Mr. Holmes I know what happened in the street and the house was merely circumstantial. I meant nothing by that kiss; it was only to wake you nothing more. I wish this instance of our escape to be hidden from John. You and I both know how dramatic he is and he will try to get us to admit feelings we don't want to." Claire's tone was relaxed and sleepy but she got her point across. It was the right thing to do, to disregard her feelings until this case was done.

Holmes nodded as he filled his pipe, "I am glad you have the same frame of mind as I, Watson will never find out from me, I can assure you of that. I will put all my efforts towards catching that Alexander and his rough crowd. That man will haunt you no longer; you have my word Miss. Watson." Holmes chose his words carefully and made them count.

Claire looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes, "Thank you Mr. Holmes, for everything you have done for me. I will be glad once Alexander is gone and hanged, the past will fade and everything will be as they should." She sunk into the couch, and as she closed her eyes Claire could not help but relive that kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

Heavy

Sherlock Holmes laid back in his chair, his mind bent on finding Alexander. The irregulars had been deployed but he felt that there was something that he missed. The murder was so simple; the victim had been killed with a single bullet to the heart. There were no prints on the gun, and the lack of evidence meant unless Alexander confessed there would be no arrest. Holmes knew that the man would never confess to a petty crime, he would try to shift the blame to a lackey of Moriarty's who would then take his place in the noose. The lanky detective picked up his clay pipe and began puffing at it. Alexander was obsessed with his assistant; perhaps if he arranged a trap with Claire as bait... he dismissed the thought quickly. Miss. Watson would surely object to being used in that manner, but then again she was bent on getting rid of that man.

He turned to the empty desk that she sat at, he was still surprised that she was still working for him after all the turbulence that had occurred. Part of him was curious to why she stayed with him despite the danger. His mind told him that it was because it was safer then being alone. His heart on the other hand chose an ill time to stir, it seemed to say that there was more to that thought. Holmes's steel trap of a mind suppressed the heart's flutterings, there was no place for any of those thoughts in the middle of a case. The detective sank back in his chair and began to formulate the plan to catch the murder.

Across many streets Claire Watson sat in her cousin's sitting room, focused on keeping the conversation away from Holmes. She was a proud woman but her employer had awakened feelings she believed to be long gone. There was so much logic that told her that it was only a passing fancy, but deep down she knew it was not. Claire could only hope that no one would be able to pry it out of her before she was ready to reveal it. Mrs. Watson took an eager interest in Claire, for a young lady not much younger than she, Claire was drastically different in many ways.

"Claire, John told me that you came to London about ten years ago. Would you care to tell me how that came about?" Mary was kind and curious about Claire's life before London.

Claire brushed a stray hair out of her face as she spoke, "You might say I escaped to London. I was destined to marry a younger son of a local lord, I knew that my destiny was not going to be like my mother's. Ever since I could ride a horse, I always dreamed of a life outside the country, outside the simple life of marrying and raising children. My father knew this as well, and helped me gather the money I needed for a train ticket. We rode on horseback to the station, and I arrived here in London, with little money and enough motivation to get me to my first job." The young lady's eyes misted over in remembrance.

Mary took a gasp of shock at the sheer determination Claire had when she was younger, "That must have been a very difficult decision to have had made Claire. I know that leaving family behind is never easy." Mary reached out and patted Claire's hand in earnest.

Claire looked at John with a skeptical expression before she answered, "For some I would imagine it would be. But, for me it was either leave for London and gain freedom and happiness or stay and be miserable. As for my family, I had the hardest time leaving my father, he taught me so much about life and how important it is to find those you can trust." Claire wiped a phantom tear away, she missed her father's hearty demeanor but, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Mary looked at her husband's cousin, aghast at the young woman's demeanor. "So, did you find what you were looking for Claire? John has only told me a few pieces of your past, he said that worked for Scotland Yard. I would imagine that must have been a very tough life." Mary was glad to know Claire, she hoped a regular lady like her was a good model for Claire.

Claire sipped her wine before answering, she was unsure what Mary's motives were in questioning her, but she played along. "I found many things here in London, freedom was the big goal and I achieve independence fairly quickly. I also found friendship, love, tragedy while in the service of Scotland Yard, it was tough some nights having to keep my cover while people got hurt. But, I found a good place with the boys, they were like brothers to me, and not a day goes past that I miss those days before Moriarty darkened my doorway..." Claire's tongue let the professor's name pass, with the knowledge that neither John nor Mary would know if it.

Watson saw his cousin's eyes darken at the mention of Moriarty, a name he did not recognize in the slightest. He was about to ask when he caught his wife's eyes on him, they seemed to tell him not to press his cousin. "So, Claire, are you excited about finding Alexander and bringing him to justice?" John asked, in hope that it would lighten the mood some.

Claire looked straight at her cousin's blue eyes with her own, "I will be glad when he is caught by Mr. Holmes, yes. Whether or not justice will be administered is up to Alexander, because if he tries to take me again, I will shoot him." Claire's tone sharpened and her face was contorted with anger.

Watson shrunk back from her sudden change in mood, "I apologize for getting such a rise out of you Claire, and I know it's hard for you since you escaped that place." Watson stood and sat next to her in hope of comfort.

Claire didn't shrink back from his presence, "You are forgiven John, I...just want that man out of my life. I don't want to ruin this evening with talks like this, why don't we change the subject to how you met Mary?" Claire pushed down the anger and listened intently to the couple's story. She was glad her cousin had found such a great lady, who loved him despite his long hours at work as well at Bakerstreet. As the pair spoke of their first conversations and leanings towards love, Claire's mind remained distant while her heart began to long once more for that type of comfort. The evening ended, and Claire was glad to be alone in her thoughts at last. As she entered her flat, the young lady felt her body relax as her hand reached for her violin. As she picked it up, Claire could not help but remember those evenings that seemed so long ago. She and Holmes would play their violins together and revel in each other's presence. Now, it seemed that they couldn't be together without her heart attempting to take control once again.

The thought of being with Mr. Sherlock Holmes in a romantic context was impossible in her mind's eye. They were both logical and emotionally distant but they both shared such a history of pain as well as pleasure. He had been there when Jack died and comforted her even when she didn't want it, he was there to help her pick up the pieces. Then, he had disappeared only to come into her life when she needed him the most, Holmes was there through her bad days and still considered her an asset. He was not a hero to her , he was a friend as well as her employer. And now after all these years together as well as apart, her heart began to steer her towards feelings of romance towards the detective. Claire stopped playing the violin in that moment, for the fear of rejection made ice run through her veins but, she had to take the leap otherwise have unrequited love for the man till her death. Claire began to play again with more fervor, she was going to tell him as soon as Alexander was dealt with. Then, the heavy prescience that man had on her actions would lift and she would be free once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Crashing Down

It had started as a normal day for Holmes, Watson and Claire; the three had been going over a plan to capture Alexander. They all knew that it had to be done, but Watson was being rigid about Claire being in danger. "I know you have been in worse situations Claire, but this is different. You may be overcome by Alexander again and I am not comfortable with idea of you luring him out." Watson rubbed his forehead with his hand, tired of the glare Claire was aiming at him.

Claire strode until she was toe to toe with her older cousin, "Just because you are older than I John, does not mean you get to be a protective lout. You are not my father, you need to let go of this notion that I need to be coddled! I am survived without you, and I can do it again." Claire's eyes were narrowed in anger, and her loud voice could be heard through the building.

Watson, instead of backing down from his cousin's outburst met it head on. "I am not coddling you, Claire I am just worried for your well being. I am sorry if I am the only one here who objects to leading you to your death. This man has been actively searching for you for three years now, there is no telling what he might do. You call what you have become surviving? You were kidnapped from this very room!" Watson threw his arms in the air to show his frustration.

Claire let out a deep sigh, "You don't think I'm happy about this idea, do you? I'm terrified of what might happen. Alexander controlled me like a puppet when we worked together, and he still hold some power over me. I did what I deemed best at the time, it's hard to think long term when you think you will be killed any day. But, we are wasting time arguing John, we need to find a way around this. Otherwise, Alexander disappears and we lose our chance to get even." Claire's shoulders sagged as she looked at her cousin.

Holmes took this as his moment to interject, "Since that has been settled, let us talk strategy. The irregulars have Alexander holed up here in this building." Holmes walked over to the desk which had a rough map of London. He pointed to a flat on the east side of town near the docks. Both assistants broke their standoff to look over the map.

Watson's eyes focused on the main street that ran in front of the building, "Is there any way we can use one of these other building to harbor the police while we wait? It just seems we are giving Alexander the advantage here. He may have men hidden inside." Watson pointed to various access points and alleys to illustrate his worry.

Holmes nodded, "I considered that, which is why we are not luring him from his base. He has too many allies there, instead we are luring him here." The lanky detective pointed to a different section of the map. It was a street near one of the main train stations, a street that Claire recognized.

Claire looked up, bewildered at Holmes's choice of meeting spots. "This is the street where Alexander shot me last time in the cab. We were originally going to go report in at Scotland Yard when, the conversation went south and I accused him of treachery. It will certainly get his attention that is most certain." Claire gave a short laugh as she began to write her note to Alexander.

Holmes looked over her shoulder to make sure it hit the right notes. It simply read: Alex, We need to end this war between us, please meet me at the Brooks Street where you threw me out of the cab tonight at six o'clock. Please come alone, I will be waiting with my white parasol. "White parasol is a code between the pair of you from the old days." Holmes hoped it meant something safe and uncomplicated.

Claire nodded, "It means I will be coming alone, in interest of discussion. That should get him to come alone. But, I have been wrong before about his intentions so we need to be cautious." Claire closed the note and headed out to the messenger boy outside. She handed it to him with a few shillings and watched him run off towards that flat.

Claire returned to Bakerstreet, where her cousin was pouring brandy for the three of them. He pushed one towards her silently, still mulling over their heated argument. She took it without question, he mind was preoccupied with what she would say to Alexander. It was just a waiting game until six, and there was still much to be said and done. The young lady began pacing the apartment, unaware that she was being watched closely. Watson was about to try to calm her down but Holmes beat him to it, "Miss. Watson it will do you little good to pace about. I know this will be difficult, but you must remind yourself how in control you are." Holmes's tone was civil if a bit calming to Claire's ear. She nodded her thanks and sat down next to Watson.

Watson looked at her troubled face and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Whatever happens tonight Claire, I want you to know how proud I am of you to face him. You have done so much, I still can't believe you are only twenty-nine years old. You have always told me the bitter truth even when it was hard for you and for that I thank you." Watson's compassion was clear and he could see Claire appreciated it.

Claire bit her lip at his declaration of her honesty, since there was that matter of her escape with Holmes that she had withheld from him. It was nagging at the back of her mind as she looked at her cousin. "Thank you John for those kind words, I am glad that you are in my life even though we disagree at times. But, there is something that has been eating away at me these past few days. I don't want to tell because it will affect your standing with not only me but with Mr. Holmes as well. But, if he concedes I will tell you before we leave." Claire looked then to Holmes as if to implore him.

The detective gave her a sharp look, "Of course Watson will want to know now that you have baited his curiosity. You used to be dependable when it came to keeping secrets, especially scandalous ones." Holmes was firm on this subject, for part of him was afraid he would lose Watson not only as a colleague but as a friend.

Claire's face shrank back in sadness, she had done wrong in letting something slip. But, this was important knowledge for John to know. "He has every right to know what happened during our escape, just because you are too proud to admit that it happened does not mean we should bury it." Claire's frustration was beginning to show as well as her uneasiness.

Watson was all sorts of confused by this new information, he did want to know what did happen but if Holmes was ashamed of it, then it could be damaging to their friendship. "I appreciate that you want to be honest with me Claire, but if it makes Holmes ill at ease that means it must be worth waiting until the right time for." Watson could see a triumphant smile on Holmes's face as well as an eyebrow raise from Claire.

Claire stood up like an over eager student, "He never mentioned being ashamed of what happened. What was it that was so bad, Mr. Holmes? Was it the act itself that was so disgusting or the fact you liked it?" Claire's eyes were wide open and her expression fierce to say the least.

Holmes strode to her carefully but deliberately, "What happened was completely trivial, you know this as well as I do Miss. Watson. What you perceived my emotions as fondness is clearly a bad job on your part. I fooled you as well as those drunkards we came across. As for the act itself, it was a bold calculation. I expected you to reciprocate but not in the manner you did." Holmes felt the nature of the conversation going downhill quickly.

Watson watched the two, completely confused and unaware of the context of the situation. "Will you two stop yelling and just tell me before blows start to be exchanged?" He stepped in between them, for he was afraid it would get violent.

Both Holmes and Claire scoffed at his intervention but in the end Holmes conceded the floor to Claire. The young lady took another swig from her brandy glass before speaking; "We had gotten out of the cellar and were going through alleys to avoid being seen. At one corner, I failed to see two drunken men and was caught by them. They tried to put their hands on me like I was a corner gal, instead I called forth Mr. Holmes as my lover. We tried talking our way out of it but the tramps were not buying a bit of it. So, we had to convince them we were...so Mr. Holmes...kissed me. Quiet fervently by normal standards, its no wonder I thought he had some feelings behind it." Claire blushed slightly but recovered quickly.

Watson looked from her to Holmes who was looking at his watch, "So, you kissed one another in order to escape? Well, it's a shock to be sure, but you had to get out of Cheapside. I would have done the same, maybe not as amorous as Holmes tried to make it look." Watson was troubled in his heart but he knew that it would only lead to trouble.

Both Holmes and Claire displayed surprise at his level of understanding, but they shrugged it off. There was no more time to dwell on what had happened, it was time to go to Brooks Street. Claire felt like she was going to her funeral but she was going to go fighting if all possible. As they entered the cab, the young lady let all her troubles float away, there was no room for hesitation. The ride was quiet and careful, and soon they arrived at that fateful road. Claire looked at both of them with a kind smile and kiss on the cheek before she climbed out onto the brick pavement.

As she walked, Claire saw the cab pass her and it made her heart lighter that Mr. Holmes would get Alexander if even she got hurt in the process. He had made that promise to her and she knew he would fulfill it. There was a good amount of people around, children playing in the street and running past their parents. There were couples with their hands clasped, whispering secrets in one another's ears. Those scenes of everyday life faded as soon as Claire caught sight of Alexander coming towards her. He was wearing that white tie she had bought him, and tipped his hat at her. They were standing on a quiet corner near a flower shop now, and Claire took a deep breath. "I am glad you still understand our old code, Alexander." Claire steeled herself for a reprimand or a slap.

Alexander chuckled, "I would be a bad man for not remembering it. I thought it was a touch dramatic of you to ask to meet here. I know you wouldn't come here unless it was for a good reason. Now, tell old Alex what this is all about. Did you miss my charming demeanor or my knowledge?" Alexander removed his hat to reveal his tawny hair.

Claire rolled her eyes, "I didn't miss either I have you know, you lost your charm when you betrayed me. The only reason I haven't shot you yet is because my employer wants you alive. If you confess to this murder and give us information you may not be hung. Please don't bat this offer away, Alexander, because this is the only time I am giving it." Claire's tone was serious, she wanted him dead but he was valuable.

Alexander looked around before he answered, "You think because we are in public that I am obligated to listen to you? You know as well as do how long Moriarty's arm is, if I confess he will have me killed before I get inside a jail cell. But, you don't care if I die or not because you made me out to be the bad guy." Alexander grabbed her and began walking her away from the people.

Claire glared at him, "You are right about me not caring about your plight. You made your choice to stay with the professor and turn to a life of crime. I gave you plenty of time to be someone I could look up to, but instead you betrayed me. You were like a brother to me, don't make another mistake Alexander." Claire was in hope that they were being followed by Holmes still.

Alexander continued his march until they reached an empty building and he forced her inside. "Stop pretending that you care for me Claire, when I showed love for you all you did was brush it away. You were the only person I could connect with and you were so cold I had to go somewhere else. Moriarty did that and more, he gave me the power that Scotland Yard could never dream of." Alexander threw her against a wall and bored her down with his gaze.

Claire's blue eyes widened in fear, "Of course I was cold and uncivil towards your advances, I had just witnessed the murder of my lover! You're a fool to think my actions were what propelled you to listen to that evil man's words. You hated the idea of having a female partner who was trying to match you and so you played on my emotions and controlled me. But, no more, Alexander, I will be free from you." Claire pushed him away, and pulled out her gun. Her mind was set to shoot him down where he stood, but in the back of her mind the plan emerged.

Alexander backed away from the gun wielding woman, "You won't kill me, Claire. You need my confession for this murder, which was only to lure you out in the open. Besides, what will your precious employer think of you for killing me?" Alexander's eyes flashed dangerously at Claire.

This had occurred to her, if she shot Alexander then, Mr. Holmes would think of her as a bad person for letting Alexander pass without the information. She didn't want to disappoint Sherlock, not when so much rode on their success. Claire kept the gun level as she walked forward, "I never said I was going to kill you Alexander, there are plenty of places I can shoot you. Maybe the leg or perhaps something you value more?" Claire's cruel laugh filled the empty house as she pointed the weapon.

Alexander lashed out with his fist across her face, which dazed the young woman. The gun went off, which grazed his scalp. He hissed and hit her again, this time in the eye. Claire stood still for a moment before she punched him in the stomach with her right fist. The pair went at it, exchanging blows until Claire was panting on the floor. Her right cheek was swollen and part of her dress was torn from Alexander's attempt to throw her. Alexander stood over her, his brow crimson from the cut she gave him; his jaw was purple from her blows. He picked up the gun from the floor and pointed it at her. "This time, I will make certain you don't get away. You still have that fiery spirit, but that won't save you this time." Alexander cocked the gun and smirked at his good fortune.

Claire swung her legs under his, which caused him to fall to his knees. She thought she heard the sound of many footsteps approaching them, but she dismissed it as her own heartbeat. As Alexander fell to his knees, he fired squarely at his lost love. He watched her eyes widen and she fell back onto the floor. Triumphant, the man stood over her to see where the bullet had hit the plague on his mind. Her gown was torn from their struggle, and his brown eyes focused on the spreading stain on her shoulder. She was still alive, this much was apparent but as he was about to fire again, the door was opened. His triumphant air was now gone in the form of two very angry men. He looked back at the gasping Claire, who was fighting to stay conscious despite the pain. "You lying traitor, you led me into this trap! I will see to it that your life becomes a nightmare, you hear me Claire!" Alexander shouted at her as Watson closed in on him with her service revolver ready.

Watson was beyond furious that he had let this transpire, "You cretin, you don't deserve to be taken to the police. I have every right to shoot you, but I won't. Claire wouldn't want me to do it." Watson lowered his weapon as the police came forth and handcuffed the former spy. As they led him away, Watson was now aware of Claire's prostrate form on the floor. He cursed wildly as he bent down over his younger cousin. She was crying from the pain in the shoulder, and in that instance he was recalled to the battlefield. "Claire...I'm so sorry... I should have come with you..." Watson's mind was reeling and his heart was beginning to panic.

Claire looked at him, despite the immense amount of pain she was in. "Don't...burden yourself John...it was my choice. I...am...glad you are here..." Claire's eyes slid away from her cousin towards the constables in the doorway. She wanted to see Mr. Holmes, for she was afraid that this would be the last time. The tears in her eyes multiplied at this thought and she began to shake from the combined blood loss and the prospect of her heart.

Holmes saw to it that Alexander was to be transferred to the custody of Lestrade and as he entered the house, he expected to see Claire standing there. Instead, he saw Watson bending over a body, and shouting for a cab to the hospital. Holmes slowly approached his Boswell only to be thrown at the sight of her. Her eyes were wide as ever, as if she was frightened and as he neared her, Holmes could see why. Her left shoulder was dark with blood, and her face was battered. He knelt swiftly, his mind became unhinged at the sight and he lost all ability to speak. Holmes's heart had finally broken free of its chains, and his green eyes began to fill with tears. He tried to speak but nothing came out, as his friend Watson joined him in his despair.

Claire's eyes reopened to see Holmes weeping over her body; it was such a startle she almost forgot she was in pain. She attempted to sit up; the pain which had been fading was now renewed as she forced herself against the wall.

Holmes watched her sit up despite the tears of anguish running down her face, he could see that ever stalwart nature that ran through both the Watson's veins was doing its work. He scooted nearer to her, perfectly aware that they were not alone. "Miss...Watson..." Holmes spoke in a whisper, but Claire cut him off with hush sound.

Claire looked deeply into his crying eyes and then spoke, "Mr. Holmes...make sure...Alex stays alive. I...want...you to get what you need..." Claire's strength was waning, and she didn't have the time for a speech about her heart.

Holmes touched her cheek tenderly, "You have my word that Alexander will survive my interviews. You can count on me, Miss. Watson...you will see him hanged." Holmes cast a reassuring look at Watson who echoed his sentiment.

Claire coughed, "I am glad to hear it...I wish I had more time...Sherlock." Claire's eyes closed again as she collided her lips with Holmes's. The sweet taste of tobacco hummed in her skin as she shrank back. The light was fading fast and she could no longer see anything beyond the darkness.

Dr. John Watson in a rare moment of clarity picked Claire up delicately and bore her towards the waiting cab. Her final act towards Holmes confounded him to no end, why would she kiss the man? Their kiss before was nothing but a tool, but perhaps... he looked back at Holmes who was just behind him. The detective's eyes were narrowed with determination as they made their way to St. Bart's. There was a moment of silence between the two men as the cab sped towards its destination.

Watson looked at his bewildered friend, as his own heart was weighed down with grief. Claire was not dead but he felt like he was losing her. "Holmes...why do you think she kissed you? I thought you two...well...did that for means of escape." Watson choked back on his tears for Claire, but stayed firm.

Holmes looked up quickly at his colleague, "It is a simple deduction to make Watson, even you must have hit upon it. Miss. Watson obviously has romantic leanings towards me and acted upon them." Holmes could not believe how easy it was to figure out, but his mind had prevented him from seeing the signs until now.

Watson didn't shout or berate Holmes's analysis; he kept his focus on Claire's breathing. "I did think that Holmes, but I never thought...that it would happen. I thought Claire would fall for someone else...but you two are so similar. You are both calculating observers...even if she has a dramatic streak in her." Watson couldn't believe this feeling of understanding he was reaching with this notion. But, then came the question of how Holmes felt about this new situation. Watson gave him a questioning glance, as if to implore him to answer.

Holmes at first scoffed at it, but then he took a deeper look at Claire's body. "Don't worry about that Watson, I promise you that this won't affect our relationship. I have much to think about before I can truly answer your question." Holmes's analytical mind was beginning to reassert its dominance. But, his heart pushed away that type of rationalization. It was the beginning of something new and profound in his body and Holmes was unsure how to act on it.

Watson sighed with the knowledge that this was the best answer he would receive from Holmes on that subject. The doctor became preoccupied with the care of his cousin and as they rushed her body into the hospital, he could not help but be worried of the path this would take them down.


	9. Chapter 9

Partners

Watson looked over the hospital bed where his cousin Claire laid, her hair spread in an arch over the pillow. The surgeon had done an excellent job of removing the bullet for her shoulder, it had been lodged deep. Watson put a cool hand on her forehead only to feel the warmth emanating from it, he pulled back her sheets to reveal her body bathed in sweat. "Nurse! Fetch Dr. Brett immediately!" Watson yelled as he pulled the soaked sheets from the bed. "Hold on, Claire. I am going to take care of you, just stay strong." Watson whispered into her ear as the doctor came running to his side.

Watson looked at him square in the eye, "She is suffering from a fever, probably a reaction to the morphine. We need to bleed her to reduce the fever, get me the equipment. I will do this myself." Watson's heart was hammering with fear, but his resolve was steady. As he carefully cut, Watson watched Claire's forehead continue to perspire with sweat. He ordered for light blankets and a luke warm cloth for her forehead. As they worked, Watson could only hope that Holmes was getting better results at the station.

Holmes slammed his fist on the wall of the cell of Alexander, outraged by this man's audacity. Alexander had refused to talk to anyone but him and now he was only answering in riddles. "Mr. Knight, you agreed that you would give information in exchange for mercy. All you have given me is trivial information on where some more common thugs are located. I need to know what he is planning and when this is going to happen." Holmes brought his eyes close to the prisoner's face.

Alexander looked at Holmes with a bemused expression, "You have no authority to grant me anything. I only wanted to speak to you to tell you that you are out of your depth. The professor may retreat now that you have me but, he will come back. It may be years before he acts, but once he does I will be content to know you will be gone. You may have won this round Mr. Holmes, but it is not the end. This murder was only to square the quarrel between Miss. Claire Watson and myself. In shooting her, her death will console me before I am hung." Alexander let his tone drip like a poison to bait the great detective.

Holmes did not yell or react violently, instead he spoke in a very harsh whisper. "You think that you can draw me in like snake? You are much mistaken Mr. Knight, if your employer will strike as you say then it is my duty to stop him from succeeding. Don't pretend you are important here, you are nothing more to me than a traitor. Miss. Watson is not dead, your aim was not as deadly as you wished it. It seems to me that your heart was not as ready as your mind was. If she was here, Miss. Watson would have you flogged within an inch of your life and I would grant it to her. You have caused her more misery then I thought possible, and I only hold back because I know that is what you want. I leave you to die, Mr. Knight." Holmes turned around with conceit in his voice and left the wretched man alone.

The detective made straight for the hospital, he didn't want to go back to Bakerstreet just yet. If he did, he knew that the urge for the syringe would overtake him. As the cab rattled through the streets, the detective's mind now returned to the thought of Claire Watson. Now, that he knew of her feelings towards him, he was unsure of how to proceed. If he cast them aside like he had done with so many women he would lose her. They always argued about how distant he was after they laid together. They wanted more of him than he was willing to give, women always wanted more than what they had. This logical thinking was stopped by his heart, it brought up an observation he had long forgotten. Claire Watson had stayed in his life these past three years regardless of his distant nature, even if he insulted her. Miss. Watson stayed despite a trifling relationship with his brother Mycroft and being in harms way once or twice. Holmes's mind was resistant to this exception to the rule, but as the cab stopped. Holmes's mind gave way and let the realization flood him with warmth.

There was a light in his hazel eyes as he ascended the stairs, ready to come to terms with these emotions at long last. As he rounded a corner he saw a nurse run into the room where Claire was being kept. He followed, in hope that there was no cause for alarm. Holmes stopped dead in his tracks, Watson was pouring tepid water over a cloth and laid it on Claire's forehead, there was a porcelain basin covered in her blood. The doctor looked up to see the surprise and anguish in his friend's face. Watson motioned him forward, his face pulled tight in concentration. "I hope you come with good news, old boy. Claire has been battling a fever these last few hours, we bled her and tried to keep her warm...There is not much more we can do..." Watson bit his lip as Claire flinched in her sleep.

Holmes touched her cheek which blazed with heat, "That evil man only wanted me so that he could try to frighten me. He told me of his employer's wrath and how I would be unable to escape it. He then talked of Miss. Watson as if she were already dead, I wanted to take a swing at him. To see her insulted in that manner, made my blood boil Watson." He continued to stroke Claire's forehead in hope that she would recover.

Watson watched Holmes's eyes soften in grief just as his own had. "I would hope that when that time comes we will be able to face it, together...I think Claire would want us to see it through the end." Watson's voice caught in his throat and he had to stop himself from abandoning all decorum.

Holmes watched his friend and came to his side and put a hand upon his shoulder. "If Miss. Watson is anything like you, she will conquer this fever. I have to believe that this will pass and we can all move on." Holmes sat down next to Watson, his heart now heavy with sadness.

Watson smiled faintly at Holmes's enthusiasm, he wanted to hope with him, but he was still uncertain. "I can only hope you are right, Holmes. I only wish I had been there..." Watson drifted off, his mind tired of fighting the wave of sadness.

Holmes found Claire's hand and covered it with his own, thin hand. "There is something you should know Watson. Remember what I said yesterday about Miss. Watson's feelings towards me?" Holmes took great care with his words, for he needed Watson to understand.

Watson nodded, surprised that Holmes would bring that up again. "Yes, you said you believed she was in love with you. I only wish that you could feel the same way, Holmes. Otherwise, I am afraid she will be found wanting in that regard." Watson looked at his friend's face, in hope of some show of emotion.

Holmes glanced from Claire's sleeping form to his colleague looking bewildered at him. "You are right, Watson. The feelings between Miss. Watson and I are not the same. I can only hope that she realizes how her feelings won't be returned by me." Holmes fought the icy feeling in his chest as he focused on Dr. Watson.

John Watson was flabbergasted among other things at Holmes's cold, indifferent attitude towards his cousin. "How can you say that Holmes? After what just happened, she took that bullet for your benefit. You realize what this will do to her?" Watson's tone had turned from concerned to angry and his face was turning red from anger.

Holmes let the words sink in before he spoke, Watson was angry as well as he should be. He hated having to lie to both Watson's but this was for their safety. "Don't think I don't realize how tender the situation is, Watson. That is why I must ask Miss. Watson to leave as soon as she is able to. If she stays here with me there is no guarantee that she won't be shot again. I need her to be safe Watson, and we both know that London isn't safe anymore for her. You are right, she did take a bullet for me, so this is the least I can do for her. And, when she leaves... I want you to go with her." Holmes's tone was no longer cold but still indicated he was holding something back.

Dr. John Watson couldn't breathe at the thought of leaving Holmes alone for any reason, they had been through bad crimes before and he wasn't going anywhere. He tightened his fist and glared at the detective he once considered a partner. "You aren't sending me away; you said you would never do that to me. If you want Claire gone, fine but there is no way I am leaving you to deal with this gang alone."

Holmes was taken aback from this fierce loyalty Watson had to him that even superseded his own family. His heart swelled for a moment before a slight movement from the lady in the hospital bed brought it down again. "I am always astounded at your loyalty, Watson. I will be happy to face these adversaries with you beside me. But, as for Miss. Watson, we both know that she won't go quietly or willingly. I will assure that she doesn't have a reason to stay here much longer, but you need to assure me that you won't be fooled by my act. I know that you know how much I care for her but this is too dangerous for those emotions to be stirred. You need to convince her that time away from London is essential to her health and being rid of me. Can I count on you to do this, Watson?" Holmes's eyes went soft for a moment but he did not let that emotion get the better of him.

Watson stood as if he was being given a medal and looked at Holmes squarely in the eye. "You can count on me, old boy." He said with a slight smirk despite the guilt that was now resting in the pit of his stomach. But, He was Holmes's partner and knew that he was going to be by that man's side no matter what. Even if that meant deceiving his own cousin, but Watson hoped that Claire would see through the deception and leave London for her own good. The doctor looked down at his cousin's heart shaped face and touched it with his palm. The fever had broken and she seemed to be alright. His heart was over-joyed despite the shadow of Holmes's promise to break ties with her. Watson knew this would be hard since he had to help Holmes keep this lie until all was clear. Claire's sweaty forehead wrinkled as she opened her eyes slightly to see the two men she loved and cared for.

Holmes saw her eyes open and look at him, but not the way she did when she kissed him. Her eyes looked dazed as if she was still in that fever. "Good to see that you have awoken at last, Miss. Watson." Holmes made himself smile despite the effect those blue eyes had on his heart.

Claire smiled back at him, "I am glad to see you here, Mr. Holmes as well as you, John." Her speech was slow and in a whisper. But, Holmes knew that she would get well from the fever soon. As for the wound in her shoulder and the one he was about to give her, he was more unsure about her braving those trials. Before anyone could speak, Inspector Lestrade strode in with two police officers. Claire, Holmes and Watson were all perplexed to see the waif-like Lestrade in the hospital.

He looked at the three faces before him and then spoke with a deliberate tone, "I am here to tell you that, Miss. Claire Watson is summoned to the court to act as a witness for the prosecution. The court date is to take place two weeks from now at four o'clock." Lestrade's grey eyes saw the alarm in Claire's eyes. He waited for a response, expecting her to lash him with her razor-like tongue.

Instead, Watson took the opportunity from Claire and spoke with great concern. "Claire isn't in any condition to testify before a court, Inspector. She just got over a fever, and will be in too much pain to go anywhere." Watson leered at the Inspector and his blue coat.

Lestrade turned to give Claire a closer look, her eyes were a cloudy blue and there were a few strands of her brown hair plastered on her face from sweat. Her left shoulder was wrapped in a sea of bandages and looked very painful even to sit up against. "What do you, think Miss. Watson? Do you agree with Dr. Watson or do you think you can serve your country by testifying?" Lestrade tried to be sympathetic but his last words made Claire glare at him.

Claire's eyes were now clear as she glared at her one time boss. "Don't try to seduce my cooperation by saying it will serve my country, Lestrade. You used the same logic on me to get me to sign off on working with Alexander in the first place. Dr. Watson is right about my being in pain being a detriment to my testifying though. However, I will go to the trial, but not for your or this country's good. I'm going for my own benefit; I want to see the look on Alexander's face when he realizes that I'm not dead." Claire smiled in such an evil way, that Lestrade took a step back from her bed. Watson felt his pride swell towards Claire as the Inspector took leave and left the three alone.

Watson went for the Doctor to tell him the progress of Claire and Holmes sat down next to his assistant. "I expected you to spit at Lestrade, and would have held back the two others from stopping you." Holmes mused as Claire glanced at her bandaged shoulder.

Claire smirked and glanced into Holmes's eyes before returning to her inspection. "I found it an insult to our history that he would try and tell me to do my duty again. I hope I see him less in context with this case. It was his fault for the inception of our partnership and he knows it. Now, in order to ease his guilt, he is having me testify." She shook her head as she drank a glass of water that was on her side-table.

Holmes wanted to tell her right then and there that he had to let her go in order to protect her. But, Watson would suggest he wait until after the trial. So, instead Holmes made do with a comforting hand on her wrist. "At least you will be rid of Alexander, which is all that matters." His comforting tone seemed to ease Claire as she sank back onto the bed. Holmes got up and walked into the hallway where Watson was talking to the doctor. He gave him a reassuring nod before bounding down the steps to the street. There was so much to do, and little time to do it in. Holmes's mind clamped down on any reservations he might have had a flung him into the planning stage of his attack.


	10. Chapter 10

Trials

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the court system outside what I have seen on TV. I apologize in advance if I get something wrong.

The courthouse towered above the heads of the passersby, most with umbrellas aloft to guard against the rain. One or two might have the inclination to turn towards the courthouse, where a few brave newspaper boys stood. They were scruffy lads, with dirty caps that barely kept their hair in. One shouted, "Traitor of Scotland Yard, going to the rope!" His small voice carried beyond the steps towards the black mass of people before him.

A few businessmen went to the lad and paid him a pretty pound for the shocking news. A cab pulled up to the curb and two gentlemen got out. One was very slim and was dressed very stylish in a black suit with a matching black cravat. The other was tall but had a bit of heaviness about him. He let the door open and slowly helped a lady out of the cab. The thin man held her arm and let her lean on him for support. The lady was dressed simply but had a very fine hat that made many turn their heads. The group slowly ascended the steps; one newsboy could here the larger man's whisper. "I don't know why they had to call on Claire to testify. She is still recovering, and shouldn't be out in this weather." He hissed as they entered the institution of justice.

Claire let John remove her coat since her shoulder was still recovering from being shot. As glad as she was that Alexander was getting justice, she was afraid that he might influence the system and be let free. Lestrade's case rested upon the evidence recovered and her personal testimony for the jury. Holmes and Watson both thought this was a bad idea, because this would be public knowledge and someone could easily sneak in and harm Claire. The small group entered the courtroom; it was filled to the brim with spectators. As they slowly made their way to their seats, Claire felt dozens of eyes upon her. She swallowed hard as her grip on Holmes's arm tightened. Holmes looked deeply into her frightened eyes, "You will be alright, Miss. Watson, you have my word." The detective felt the weight of her fear, but it had to be done. Claire sat down gingerly, since her shoulder was in so much pain.

The judge entered the courtroom, his wig powered perfectly. Everyone stood before he bade them to sit down. Alexander was brought out from the waiting room; his tawny hair once lush was now greasy and matted. There was still a spark of defiance in his eyes as he sat down next to his lawyer. Lestrade was the first to take the stand, where he told the court and the jury the facts of the case. How Alexander had been seen earlier that night in the company of the victim, and his gun was found near the alley. It seemed like hours before Alexander's lawyer, Mr. Nigel Stover called Claire up to the stand. She did not hear him at first, Claire was bent on keeping the pain at bay. Her left arm was in a sling, but the bullet had broken her clavicle and it was going to take at least six months for it to heal completely. Holmes helped her up, which she thanked with another smile. The young lady took her time to get to the stand, Claire didn't even look at Alexander who was glaring at her.

Nigel straightened his tie before he spoke, "Miss. Watson, could you please state what your occupation is for the court?" Mr. Stover approached her carefully, he didn't want to attack her just yet.

Claire looked into his green eyes briefly, "I am a secretary for Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Claire was already tired of being stared at, and wanted to go back to the hospital where the morphine waited.

Mr. Stover nodded, "And, how long have you known Mr. Knight?" His tone stayed pleasant.

Claire bit her lip and thought for a long moment, "I have known Mr. Knight for six years. But, I had not spoken or seen him in three years." Her shoulder began to pound, and her teeth pulled at her lip harder.

Mr. Stover wrote something down before he continued, "What was the nature of your relationship with Mr. Knight, Miss. Watson?" His eyes narrowed, in hope that she would admit to something scandalous.

Claire locked eyes with him, "He was my partner in Scotland Yard for a case, he was like an older brother to me. Strictly professional at all times." Her words were forced now, the pain was blinding her to everything around her. Claire's eyes began to well up with tears, the morphine from the morning was wearing off and the pounding was unceasing.

The lawyer took no notice of this and carried on his questioning, "Tell us Miss. Watson, if you two were so close, why did you leave him in the middle of the case?" Nigel neared the woman to see that she was glaring a hole through him.

Claire gritted her teeth, "Because, Mr. Stover, he threatened to kill me for exposing his treachery. If I had stayed, I would have died, I decided to run while I could...Now, please finish this questioning." Her tears had begun to fall onto her cheek as the pain blossomed forth. Claire wanted to scream in agony, but she didn't want to give Alexander the satisfaction.

Nigel straightened his tie again, "And you have evidence for this act by my client?" He went back to his table, to overlook the evidence.

Claire nodded, "Yes...There were...coded letters...you should have copies." Her voice was cutting out do the sheer energy it took to talk instead of weep.

Nigel found them and their translations, the woman had got the proof alright. He looked up at Claire, well aware of how much pain she was in. "Yes, I see thank you, Miss. Watson. What about this recent incident between you two? How did that come about?" He was beginning to reel her emotions into this trial.

Claire brushed her tears away with her right hand, "I met Alexander to end this feud between us. We argued and fought, he ended up shooting me...this murder was only to get me out of hiding." Her voice began to crack and John stood to go calm her but Holmes prevented him. The detective found her eyes locked onto his, begging for a release from the pain and the attention she was getting.

The crowd gasped to know that the murder was done so vilely, with no better purpose than to lure Claire out. The judge's stern looked soon quieted them down and Mr. Stover continued. "One last question, why should the court take your testimony seriously? Because, I have here from Dr. John Watson that you suffer from paranoia."

This was meant to break Claire's control and have her swear at him, instead Claire only glared more. "I may suffer from paranoia but, as Dr. Watson can attest to my stable demeanor before the encounter occurred. As for the aftereffects, I think an exception can be seen for I am still recovering from being shot." Claire felt her strength wane but she remain upright as Holmes took her back outside.

Holmes could see the tired look in her eyes, and the beaded sweat upon her brow. "You were very brave to testify, Miss. Watson. I am proud of you." His green eyes met with hers as they walked.

John Watson stayed in the courtroom, he wanted to see the conviction of Alexander Knight. He knew Claire would if she was better, but one Watson was enough. Claire climbed into the cab with Holmes and braced herself for an unsettling ride back to the hospital. She looked back through the rain at the building, and hoped that justice would be done.

As Holmes watched Claire be administered the morphine, he couldn't help but worry that the relief she found in the drug would become addicting. His mind wanted to rebel against the warmth of her presence, wanting the cold comfort of solitude. Holmes's heart pushed that drive away as Claire's eyelids fluttered before closing. He stayed, despite the urge to dive into the opportunity that lay before him. With Alexander gone from the gang, the professor would want some form of revenge. But, the organization was now vulnerable due to the immense amount of information Claire had on them. They could try to kill her and he wasn't going to let them have that chance. It wasn't about saving the country from Moriarty anymore, he wanted to save her from ever having to watch her back for assassins.

But, that plan had to be postponed, striking now would only make the situation worse. Holmes knew that Claire would have to leave London for a while to escape the retribution, and he knew that she would ask him to join her. And he knew he couldn't say yes, as much as he wanted to, his place was between her and Moriarty. Watson would be with her and it wouldn't be a long holiday, just enough time to avoid a massacre. The detective brushed back her hair with his thin hand, in spite of his own logic he was falling for her. He smiled and began to spin the plans he would need.

Watson marched out of the courthouse, the sunset washing over the marble steps in orange and purple. The doctor shouted for a cab and could barely contain his emotions as he rode to the hospital. The wooden floor flew beneath his feet as he ran into the room where Claire laid with Holmes holding her hand. His friend looked up at him, his hazel eyes heavy with concern and a glimmer of hope. He did not have to ask the question of the Doctor, who spoke at once. "The court convicted him of treason as well as a count of kidnapping. He is going to swing Holmes! I knew that he wouldn't get away with it!" Watson lost all scruples as he hugged his thin friend.

Holmes patted his friend's back, surprised by this embrace. They quickly separated and looked over the sleeping form of Claire. Sherlock had much to do and he left Claire under the guise of Watson, she would understand that he couldn't be at her side at all times. Watson brushed his cousin's hair back, "I hope you heard that Claire, Alexander is gone, you will be at peace at last." The doctor unfurled his paper as he sat. He was worried about the possibility that Claire would become addicted to the morphine, but she like him was strong and hard-headed. Watson let himself hope for the future instead of worrying about the trials that lay before them.

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AN: I re-did this chapter as well as Partner's so,please re-read them if you get the chance. I should be uploading my new chapter soon, sorry for the wait!


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: I changed chapter's 9 &10 to make sense with the plot. I would recommend that you re-read those before you read this. I know it's been forever since I have updated, I hope you all enjoy it. Please R&R!**

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Withdraw

I hated being unable to move my shoulder without prickling the pain. That damn Alexander had to shoot me; I would rather that he had killed me then allow me to wallow in this amount of pain. I guess that was he reasoning, to make me suffer just I had made him suffer all those years ago. I tried to move from the couch in my flat towards the window only to have my body protest. I gritted my teeth as I looked out at the bustling street below me, I wished for a moment to be that carefree without pain. It had been three weeks since I was released from the hospital. The sunlight cast a beam through my window onto the red-carpet that lined my rooms. My ears were trained towards the door, I was expecting a caller at any moment and I needed to move towards it. With great effort, I moved with my right shoulder pointed ahead to lead me towards my couch. I thought about lying on the couch but the sound of feet on the stair prevented me. The door to my flat opened to reveal John with his black bag hanging by his side. He smiled sympathetically at my pain; he understood it all to well. He had been shot in the same shoulder as I had back in the war. "How's the pain today, Claire?" He asked me tenderly as he helped me sit down on the couch.

I struggled to pull a smile as I reset my position against the plush of the sofa. "I honestly don't know how you were able to deal with this amount of pain, John." My tone was even enough but my eyes gave away how much pain I was really in.

John rubbed his old wound and chuckled, "It gets better, trust me Claire. If you weren't so stubborn about using the medicine I give you, you would feel better." He pointed to my untouched medicine. It was morphine and I hated using it because it made me sleep for days on end. I wanted everything to be like they used to be in terms of my health. I looked at the door frame expecting to see a certain lanky detective in it. Instead, there was nothing. John followed my gaze and shook his head. "I wanted to bring Holmes but, he was not home when I left for your flat. I assume he is off on a case." I could see there was a question in his eyes but I had not the fortitude to answer it.

I needed a release from the confines of pain that wasn't morphine. My mind logically went to the idea of Sherlock's syringe. He could administer it a little at a time so I wouldn't have a bad reaction to it. I toyed with the idea of us both using the drug, which brought up an interesting scenario in my mind. John looked at me oddly as I was musing as if what I was doing was bizarre. I raised a questioning eyebrow as he drew the proper dosage of morphine into a syringe.

"You look at lot like him when you are thinking, it's a bit odd. Now, I'll give you a low dose and hopefully it will numb the pain." The good doctor reassured me like any patient and slowly pushed the needle into my skin. I flinched as the fluid filled my veins; I knew it would not be long before I felt the effects of the drug. John poured the tea from the pot I had sitting on my desk and handed me a cup.

I raised it to my lips and drank it as slow as possible. "Do you want to know why I'm so stubborn about using the morphine?" I asked John as I put the porcelain cup down.

My cousin, Doctor John Watson thought for a moment, his forehead wrinkled with thought. "I know you are worried about a possible reaction, but I keep telling you its very rare to have an allergy to morphine." He sipped the tea and continued to look at me with those sky blue eyes.

I blinked my own pair of blue eyes at him, "It's not that John, I'm worried about ...addiction. I have known just as many people as you who have fallen to an addiction of some sort. Plus, I had that fever from the operation." My mind wandered back a little to my time at the hospital. I didn't like being poked by doctors besides my cousin and the small space also made me annoyed.

John looked at me with kindness in his eyes, "Listen to me Claire, you won't get addicted to morphine. You already said you don't like using it much, so there isn't much point of you worrying. I brought some willow bark tea that should help the pain some. If you would like, I could massage your shoulder." John took out a package of tea and placed it on my coffee table.

I smiled, aware of the effort he was putting into making me well. "Thank you so much John, for helping me. I wish there was something I could do in return." My throbbing shoulder stopped throbbing at long last which meant the morphine would soon send me to sleep. I fought the drowsiness and kept my eyes open long enough to hear my cousin's reply.

John smiled back at me and rubbed my shoulder a bit, "I just want you to get well. Maybe after you feel a bit better, I can convince you to go on holiday to help speed your healing process." His rough hand felt nice on my bad shoulder but his suggestion for a holiday was unnerving. As I was about to protest, the drowsy effect of the morphine became too much for my body to fight. My eyes closed and off I was to dream whether or not I wanted it.

Third-Person P.O.V

Dr. Watson watched his much younger cousin fall asleep on the couch despite her best efforts not to. He took it upon himself to carry her to her bedroom and lay her on her bed. Watson knew that when she woke, that she would have a few choice words for him about her holiday. "I know you want to see this through, but I don't want to risk you getting hurt again." He said aloud, knowing that she could not hear him. Watson hated lying to anyone especially Claire, but he knew where Holmes was, and it wasn't on the streets of London. The lanky detective was at home, devising a perfect plan to cut his ties to Claire without utterly destroying her in the process. The detective had put more thought into this because not only of his true feelings towards Claire but because Watson was his partner as well her cousin and he didn't want to lose Watson. These were the thoughts that occupied Holmes's mind as he smoked his clay pipe in earnest.

Watson made sure Claire was comfortable before he left the flat, his heart twisted with the burden that Holmes laid on it. He had agreed because it was best for everyone, but it still didn't help his conscience any. The doctor left the building and headed back to his own home in hope that Mary would lessen his burden.

_**Three Days Later...**_

Claire was sipping the willow bark tea that Watson had left and soured at the taste. She placed a spoon of sugar in the cup in hope that it would taste better. Just as she was about to try it, there was a knock on her door. She raised an eyebrow, "Come in." She said pleasantly and saw her landlady Rose in the doorway.

The older woman shuffled her feet uncomfortably as if the sight of Claire still in a dressing gown was uncommon. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes is here to see you, miss. Do you want me to ask him to wait?" Her implied message got through to Claire who shook her head.

"Please show him in, Mrs. Rose." Claire's tone was civil if a bit short. Rose nodded and gestured for Holmes to come up the stairs. The older woman shook her head as she went about her business of starting to cook dinner.

Holmes shuffled into his assistant's flat, amazed that it was still as clean as ever despite her condition. His eyes focused on Claire as she stiffly stood to greet him, her eyes brighter then they had been. "I apologize for not coming to see you sooner, Miss. Watson. Dr. Watson informed me that you were still getting used to using the morphine. I take it, you are doing better?" Holmes spoke in a clear-cut tone which seemed to pass without mention.

Claire gestured for him to sit and allowed herself to do the same which wrinkled her dull red dressing gown that covered her nightgown. "I am getting better, although it is slower than I would like. Last time I was shot, it was only a grazing shot so, it was not as bad. In any case, I am glad you came to see me Mr. Holmes." Her right hand brushed her left shoulder as the ache was slowly ebbing from the tea.

Holmes watched her drink the tea, and for a moment he was going to tell her his plans but his mind knew better. "My purpose for this visit is to discuss what occurred before you were rushed to the hospital." Holmes's tone switched from pleasant to serious which was indicated further by his hard gaze.

Claire surveyed this change of tone with slight surprise and as she put down her tea, her mind shot back to that short kiss. "You have to understand, I thought I was going to die..." Her voice trailed off as if she wasn't sure what to say next. "But, my feelings towards you have not changed." Her tone matched Holmes's for seriousness.

Holmes took a deep breath, every part of him wanted to do the opposite of what he was about to do. "Miss. Watson, although I do care for you more than any other woman I have ever met. However, this situation we are in now does not permit us to work together in any form. I can not focus on my work if you are there. Your feelings towards me will only result in heart-break since I cannot return these same feelings. So, that is why I must terminate you immediately from my employ." Holmes made his tone deliberate and cold like he was talking to a client. His grey eyes bore into Claire's skull.

Claire wasn't sure how to react to this speech, which not only terminated her job but her friendship with Holmes. Her face contorted into a mask of confusion, "Why did you wait to tell me this? If you knew then you couldn't return my feelings, why didn't you tell me at the hospital?" Her hands were shaking from the nerves and her eyes looked panicked.

Holmes knew she deserved at least a grain of the truth to why he waited, "Because, you were just starting to recover. I thought the shock would further jeopardize your recovery. I should have told you sooner." He reached out and clasped her hands with his own.

Claire withdrew her hands from his clasp, "You should have told me sooner than allow me to even imagine that you had any sort of feeling towards me." Claire remained coherent despite the fact her blue eyes were filling with tears. "Are my feelings of love so horrible to fathom that your actions are to destroy them?" Her tears were falling fast and her shoulders began to shake.

Holmes knew that she would cry and damn him, but he did not foresee the impact of her words on his heart. It twisted horribly in his chest and his throat tightened. "I have said many times that the affairs of the heart are not my specialty, Miss. Watson. I do not consider your feelings horrible, they are just misplaced. You have known all along that I am a man not inclined towards love in any regard. I had hoped that you would realize the error of your ways and move that love to someone else." Holmes couldn't bear to keep talking, because his heart was fighting so hard against his iron mind that he though he might lose it.

Claire felt her gut twist in grief and the loud mournful sound emitted from her throat. "Don't you think I had these exact same misgivings about telling you in the first place? I did not plan to fall in love with you but, I did. Now, I realize how futile it was to think that things would be any different with you. I foolishly thought that because you had been in my life so long, you would understand me better than any other. Now, I do see my error in ever hoping that I could love again." Claire's weeping grew louder as she stood up and opened the door to the short hallway and the street that lay beyond it. "You are no longer welcome in my home or in my presence again." Her tear streaked face was now a mask of anger.

Holmes said nothing and walked out of the door and began to run towards Bakerstreet. He wanted to run away from those feelings but, he was completely ensnared by his assistant. She was beautiful, brilliant and brought much needed light to his life. He stopped running once he got to Bakerstreet. His heart felt heavy as he climbed those stairs into his office, he could no longer keep the tears at bay. He hated feeling so vulnerable and so emotional, he needed to be numb. By instinct, his right hand flew to the drawer in the desk and took out the syringe. It was not long before he inserted the needle into a vein and pushed the plunger down. He felt the grief and guilt ebb away in favor of the numb feeling from the combined power of the morphine and cocaine.

Claire was collapsed on her bed, the sheer force of Holmes's words still echoing in her head. Her heart was tearing at the seams for a third time and this time there was no burying of feelings like before. The urge to feel nothing was overwhelming, but she knew that would drive her to the morphine. Instead, she had her landlady Rose go fetch Watson, if there was anyone who could help her it was her dependable cousin, Dr. John Watson.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: I decided for a lot of reasons not to have Moriarty be the villain because of the obvious reasons associate with the canon. Don't worry "The Professor" is still the main bad-guy its just a different Professor than the one in the books. Sorry for the delay!

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Waves

I was at home, reading the paper in hope to get a whiff of what was going on in the world. Mary was sitting beside me, sewing and talked to me as she always did about the day. I was about to start telling her a joke about the agony columns when our maid came in with her face white as a sheet. "Dr. Watson, your cousin's landlady is here. She says that Claire needs you." Poor Emily, she never got used to rushing people in for treatment or bad news. I motioned for the landlady who started to cry and babble about how mean Holmes was to her tenant and that she wanted to slug him. I knew how she felt as I grabbed my black bag and headed to the street with her where the cab waited. The ride was full of noise from the street but I blocked it all out. I was consumed with worry and guilt that Claire did something drastic.

I bounded up those stairs to her flat and opened the door with great dramatic flair, only to see nothing. Nothing had been thrown or dismantled apart from a half cup of tea, there was no indication that anything had happened. The sound of muffled weeping changed that notion and I had no hesitation to go to its source. I opened Claire's bedroom door to find her curled on top of her bed. She had not heard my entrance and seemed utterly lost in her misery. My gut felt wrenched between guilt and heart-break to see my cousin so. I slowly approached her side and put a hand on her shoulder. "Claire, I'm here. What has happened to you?" It took everything in me not to tell her Holmes's plan. Instead, I just tried to be there for her.

Claire sniffed and turned to face me, her face was red from weeping and her tears dripped on her face. "I'm...so glad you came so quickly John. Mr. Holmes...he... fired me and told me he could never love me." As if reliving those words, Claire began to resume weeping but no more tears came about.

I was genuinely shocked at Holmes's actions, I assumed he would let her down easy and that would be it. But, to learn of his actions made me furious to the core. There was a moment where I considered leaving Claire to let Holmes know my fury. My fists were clenched as if ready for a fight, when Claire sat up and addressed me.

"John please, fighting or yelling at him will not help the situation. You have known for longer than I how he is when it comes to matters of the heart. I knew it as well but my heart was blind with love and did not see the error until he came here." Claire was longer crying, her gaze was resolute as ever.

I conceded and sat beside her, "What do you want me to do? I will restrain myself from confronting Holmes, but I still want to help you in some small way." I was still wondering in the back of my mind if she had taken morphine or some other drug to dull her heartache.

Claire looked at her feet and mine for a moment as she seemed to be putting a lot of effort into her task. "I think I need to prepare to leave London for a holiday. And, I do not want to go alone. I want you to contact my good friend Rodger Bloom and ask him if he will accompany me to Brighton. Second, I need you to remove all the morphine I have in my flat. I have not taken any since the last time you administered it. But, I worry that my resolution will ebb. I can get by with the willow-bark tea you brought me and the sea air should help ease my pain some." Claire's reasonable demeanor always surprised me, how she could be so calm about the state of things.

I nodded as she wrote down Rodger's address, "Should I tell him about what happened?" I asked her unsure how much Claire wanted him to know. I had only met Mr. Rodger Bloom twice and both times I was aware of how chummy they were together.

Claire tried to shrug but stopped at the dull pain in her shoulder and sighed. "Tell him that I have had my heart broken and that I want to go to Brighton with him to ease the sadness. I will fill him in on the train there." She was so candid about the fact her heart was broken, I almost took a double take. I could see the underlying grief in her eyes and in her posture, she looked defeated. I wished I could tell her that these things happen and she will forget the man who broke her heart. But, I know she has gone down this road before and I was unsure if she was going to come back from this.

As worried as I was, I knew that she would break free from her sadness. We Watsons are very resolute and able to endure a great many things. I placed a hand on her right shoulder, "I wish I could take away this pain you are feeling Claire. You of all people deserve to be happy with a gentleman who loves you. I promise, never to stop believing that you will find fulfillment and happiness." I felt a tear or two make their way to my eyes but I was determined to stay strong.

Claire hugged me close despite her hurt shoulder and I tenderly hugged her back. "Thank you, John." Claire whispered into my ear before she let go and continued to sit on the bed.

I knew time was of the essence and so I rose to leave my cousin. "I take it you will be taking tomorrow morning's train?" I quickly asked her as I gathered the morphine bottles into my bag.

Claire watched me put away the drug with a small measure of temptation. "Yes, please apologize to Rodger for my short notice." She tried to drink her now cold tea only to be disgusted by the taste. I nodded and said my goodbyes to her with promises to keep her informed about the situation with The Professor.

Finding Rodger Bloom was an easy task since he worked for a gallery that I had been to before. The gallery was large and had a nice collection of works by Rembrandt but I had no time to admire them. The walls were of polished marble which I had interesting time admiring while the curator went to fetch Mr. Bloom. I was about to ask about the cost of the material when I was faced with the curator and Mr. Bloom. He was just as tall as I remembered him, and just as thin. He frame reminded me a lot of Holmes's despite his blond hair and thin mustache. "Dr. Watson, it is a pleasure to see you again. What do I owe the honor to?" Mr. Bloom's voice was light and genial.

I motioned for him to follow me to a more discrete area of the gallery whereupon I told him of Claire's heartbreak with a gentleman and her desire to go to Brighton. Mr. Bloom shook his head in disbelief at this news and muttered something under his breath about having a word with the man. "So, she wishes that I go with her to Brighton? I do want to accompany her on this escape. I do need a little time to prepare, but I gather she wants to leave in the morning?" His tone was less genial than before and more concerned.

I nodded and told him this was so, and that she was intent upon leaving London as soon as possible. I watched him nod and think it over, his thin hands stroked his chin as he mulled it over.

"I am not surprised she wants to leave so soon. Very well, you may tell Claire that I will meet her at Victoria station at half past nine." He seemed excited to leave London but also concerned with Claire's wellbeing as I was.

I thanked him as warmly as I could towards an acquaintance and set off for Claire's flat. Upon entering the doorway, I gave a message to her landlady to give to her and went on my way home. My burden of guilt had eased somewhat with the knowledge that Claire would have a caring friend to go with her to Brighton.

_The Next Morning..._

Claire Watson was keen on leaving London despite her outward appearance. The young lady wore a long light blue dress that seemed a year or two out of fashion. Her face was covered by the large straw hat she was wearing that had a corresponding blue bow on it. Any regular person in Victoria station would have passed her by without a second look except to remark on her fine hat. Claire did not move from her spot in front of the train to Brighton, despite the amount of people pushing past her to get to their own target. The sound of a cough brought her chin up and she smiled to see the cougher. He was dressed in a dapper light tan suit with a red tie and was carrying a small bag. "Rodger, I am so glad to hear that you will be accompanying me to Brighton." Claire hugged her friend lightly and inhaled the smell of his aftershave.

Rodger returned her smile, "It is my pleasure, Claire. I look forward to our holiday. I know how you detest crowds, so let us board." Rodger extended his right arm and put it through her left arm, taking special care not to jostle her shoulder. The pair showed their tickets to the conductor who escorted them to the first class cabins that they had reserved.

Claire was quiet as she boarded the train, despite the turmoil her heart was feeling she knew this was the best action to take. The young lady opened the door to her compartment, number 11. She took off her hat and gloves and made sure her trunk was secure. Before she could do anything else, there was a quiet knock on the door. "Is that you, Rodger?" She asked, knowing it was her friend who knocked.

Rodger chuckled from the front of the door, "Who else would it be? Now open the door." His light and airy tone made Claire hide another smile as she opened the wooden door with ease.

Her friend was a bit taken back by the face before him, it was gaunt from her sleepless nights since the surgery and her eyes were swimming with dark thoughts and emotions. Rodger knew how badly Claire needed an escape but he did not foresee the damage it took. "My dear, Claire. Who is the braggard who did this to you? I will see to it that he is punished..." Rodger's tough threat was cut off by a soft sob from Claire and he closed the door so that none would bother them. Rodger then sat beside Claire and hugged her close. "I'm sorry, Claire. I won't hurt the bastard, I just want to help you this time." He felt her sobs weaken but her hold on his back was still strong. Both Claire and Rodger knew that the grief was not going to end when they got to Brighton, it would go through Claire's system like a wave. Going away before coming back, and Rodger was ready and willing to help her brave them.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I apologize for taking so long. So, this chapter is extra long and I apologize for it. Please R&R!

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Peril

Holmes's mind was at full speed as he leaned against the side of a building for support. His breathing was labored as he tried to stay alert. "The Professor" was just ahead of him with the rest of his crew. He heard Watson shout ahead of him and the detective plodded ahead despite the gash above his right brow. The blood was blinding him and he knew that he had to act quickly. Finally, he walked around a corner and there at the end of the alley was Watson. The good doctor turned to shout at Holmes to get support but when he saw Holmes's condition he stopped short. Holmes could vaguely see the doctor's concern as he arrived by his side. Before either could speak, a booming voice from an overturned cart addressed them. "I told you it was unwise to unravel the thread, Mr. Holmes. I gave you a chance to live up to your potential but like your darling assistant I must remove you." The professor's voice was aristocratic as ever but also held a tone of malice.

Watson growled at the disembodied voice, he knew that Claire was safe and far away from The Professor's influence. He was about to shout insults at the man but Holmes stopped him as they stood behind a crate. "Don't pretend that you still have your power, Professor. Or should I say Lord Rathbone? Your real identity was a bit of a puzzle until I recognized your family's seal on your ring. You should have taken better care of concealing it from me." Holmes's tone was sharp, and to the point. He hoped that revealing news was enough to shock the criminal. He dared to peek over the top of the crate only to be shot at by one of the lackeys. He ducked just in time and cursed Lestrade for taking so long to follow. Watson attempted to fire back only to hit dirt instead of man.

Lord Rathbone grimaced behind the cart; he clenched his right hand that bore the ring. He had forgotten the keen observations of the celebrated Sherlock Holmes. "You found me out, Mr. Holmes. But, you are still vastly outnumbered and I doubt the police will arrive in time to save you." The villain chuckled a bit; he had Holmes and Watson right where he needed them. As for Claire, he was content with the assumption that the girl was dead or she was soon to be if his men did their job well. Rathbone was so busy trying to maneuver his men that he failed to realize that the sound of a gunfight were no longer there. 'Where are you, you ungrateful curs?" He hissed as the he stood up, giving up his cover from Watson's revolver.

It was Watson's turn to chuckle as he saw the tall man be bewildered by the sudden departure of his minions. His men had been assaulted while he was boasting by The Red Scarves who now had their arms trained on Rathbone. Holmes smirked to see the gang working in so silent a manner and emerged from the crate with Watson. The lanky detective approached him with a cold neutral expression. "Your time of power is over Rathbone. You were not the puzzle I hoped for." Holmes said with a hint of regret as Lestrade came finally and arrested the man.

Rathbone snarled at Holmes, "You think I am the last threat to you? Just you wait until you meet my maker. He will crush you and your friend along with this city." The Lord's eyes were wide and he was smiling like a maniac.

Holmes merely blinked back at him, "I know who you are referring to and I know for a fact that he had no part in your creation. His ego wouldn't allow for one of his underlings to create an identity like his own. You should be glad I got to you before he did." Holmes's tone was close to scathing as he turned away from the former crime lord. The wheels of his mind began to turn again at the thought of this other evil in his life. The real villain that was Professor Moriarty would not cross his threshold for awhile now that Holmes had taken out one of his copycats. Holmes sat on a crate while Watson inspected his friend's wound with a look of concern.

"You should be glad that he only grazed your brow with that rock. You could have lost an eye." Watson's concern sounded like an over protective mother but Holmes knew better than to call him out on it. Holmes's mind was done with Rathbone and now his mind now turned to his unfinished business with Claire Watson. His heart seized in his chest instantly at the thought of her in peril somewhere in England. Sherlock Holmes was a proud man but he knew that he had to rectify the situation. He was so busy thinking that he forgot that Watson was currently engaged in the task of cleaning his wound with alcohol. Holmes felt the sting of the medical substance and hissed. Watson shook his head, "I will need to stitch that brow up once we get back to Bakerstreet. What did you think of Rathbone's threat?" Watson let his friend rise and led him to their cab.

Holmes shook his head to dismiss the look Watson was giving him; he wanted more information than was necessary. "It was the last retort he could give in hopes of provoking an aberrant response from me. Pay it no mind, Watson. But, I will say that we will not see the last of kind of character Rathbone is." Holmes's thin face contorted with a manner of dread for only a moment before it vanished.

Watson sighed compassionately as they boarded the cab and braved the mass of cabs on the street. "I was afraid you would say something of that nature. I am glad that we are free of Rathbone, although I wish dearly that Claire had been here to see it." The doctor had a hint of regret in his tone that ended all possible conversations. Watson wanted to tell Holmes where Claire was and that she was safe for once in her hazardous life. But, he did not want to push his friend to admit that he missed her. As the pair walked up the stairs to the sitting room, Watson went to grab his bag and as he did so, he hoped Claire was having a more peaceful day.

_Same time in Brighton_

Claire stood on her porch of her cottage as her dear friend Rodger Bloom was making a mess of the kitchen. The sea air filled her lungs with relaxation that she needed desperately and the ache of her left shoulder was less than it had been in London. A burst of wind made her lilac dress flutter in the breeze and she almost forgot why she was there before Rodger reappeared with the tea and sandwiches. "I hope you cleaned up in there, Rodger. I would hate to see my great aunt's house so misused." She smirked at him as he handed her a cup of the willow bark tea.

Rodger took this swipe at his habits with a smirk that retorted hers, "I wondered how long it would be before you starting insulting my character. Your great-aunt has been dead for two years, she left you this house so that you could be a stylish spinster like herself." His brown eyes danced with amusement.

Claire rolled her eyes at the remark, "Well, she was one of the few who thought well enough of me to consider me stylish. I always enjoyed this house and she knew how much I adored the sea. I wish you could stay with me longer, there is so much we need to catch up on." The lady had a hint of want in her voice but she was trying to be strong.

Rodger placed one of his thin hands upon the callused hands of his dear friend, "I wish I could stay longer as well, Claire. But, the gallery needs me desperately, we are getting more paintings from France and I am one of the few who can speak French. How long do you plan to spend in Brighton?"

Claire looked out across the street where a young man and young woman were walking arm in arm. She observed them as they whispered in each other's ears and the woman's giggle reminded her of another young lady. Her bright blue eyes snapped back to attention and she turned to her friend. "I am not sure as of yet. I plan on staying at least a month, since I no longer have a job to worry about." She didn't mean to sound angry but her tone said otherwise.

Rodger locked eyes with her, "Claire, I been your friend for many years and weathered that heartbreak with you. I am just as sure as I was then that you will regroup and carry on. You are too remarkable not to." He cemented this sincerity with a kiss on her forehead.

Claire felt tears prick to the corners of her eyes; her heart was flooded with warmth from the feelings of gratitude. "Thank you, Rodger for those kind words. I am happy to know that you will be on my side, no matter what mishaps I happen to get myself into." The lady was glad not to be on her own, otherwise her feelings of hurt would be allowed to fester instead of heal.

As Rodger began to clear the tea tray, Claire noticed a pair of figures coming up the lane that looked normal for a place like Brighton. Both men were wearing light tan suits with matching hats which was a common sight. But, one was carrying a walking stick of some sort and the other seemed not to be carrying a weapon. The way they walked made Claire suspicious of them being vacationers and more like assassins. The lane that the cottage stood on was fairly sparse with only a few cottages like Claire's. Most of those were still unoccupied since the summer holiday season was not to start for another few days. Claire's vision of the two figures grew sharper as they came closer and without warning she hurried into the house with a look of frustration upon her face.

Rodger looked perplexed at his friend's new change in manner, "Claire, what is the matter? Did you see an overweight sunbather again?" He added the joke to alleviate his friend's nerves.

Claire shot him a dark smile before motioning him to the kitchen, "In a minute or two, two men are going to knock on the door. They are what I assume left of Rathbone's gang sent to make certain that I'm no longer a threat. I need you to pretend to own this home and not to know a Claire Watson. Tell them that you were a friend of the family and that you wrote for permission to use the cottage." Claire spoke in a whisper, for she feared of being overheard by the approaching attackers.

Rodger gulped, he knew that she was serious by the steady nature of her voice and her gaze. "I will do my best, but what about you? There is nowhere you can hide without being heard or seen." His voice was trembling with fear but he was resolved to help her.

Claire surprised her friend with a small smile, "That is simple enough; I will pretend to be your wife. I have the assumption that they don't know what I look like, so hopefully that will fool them enough to leave. If they see through our charade, be prepared to head for the constable and I will try to subdue them." Her eyes crackled with the thought of fighting again, she had a lot of pent up anger and she was keen to use it.

Rodger shared her wicked grin and helped her ready the house to look more like a couple lived there instead of an old spinster. They barely had any time to remove photographs of Claire's great aunt Sophie before there was a loud knock on the door. Rodger straightened his green tie that stood out against his beige summer suit and went to the door. "Yes, may I help you?" He answered with perfect curiosity at the two strange men at his door. Claire waited in the kitchen and silently prayed that this ruse would work.

"Yes, we are looking for a Miss. Claire Watson. We represent a client who wishes us to find Miss. Watson." The taller one without a cane spoke in an authoritative tone. His accomplice tried to look beyond Rodger only to be blocked his arm against the door frame.

Rodger shook his head, "I'm sorry to disappoint you gentlemen. There is no Miss. Watson here, only myself and my darling wife Jennifer. If you would care to come in for some refreshments, I am sure I can point you in the right direction." Rodger smiled as he opened the door wider and invited the men inside. He showed them into the sitting area where there was a love seat and two wicker chairs. "Please, have a seat." He gestured, again with a small smile.

The taller man spoke again as the shorter one looked around, "I am sorry to impose on your holiday Mr. ..." He stopped short to await Rodger's answer.

Rodger blinked quickly, "Oh yes, where are my manners? My name is Mr. Rodger Redgrave." He stayed seated on the loveseat and made sure to keep the two men seated.

"Mr. Redgrave, we were told that Miss. Claire Watson would be here in Brighton. Do you have any idea where she might be or why you are here instead of her?" The taller one asked, his pleasant tone fading into the air.

Rodger shifted in his seat, "I have never met this Miss. Watson you speak of, and I've only heard gossip from various relatives about her. Perhaps my wife will be more of a help, darling?" He called towards the kitchen and a moment later the group heard a light female voice.

"Be there in a moment, dear. I am bringing out some sandwiches." Claire emerged with a tray of cucumber snacks for the guests and she sat down next to her "husband" with a kiss on the cheek.

Rodger playing the affectionate husband smiled and returned her kiss, "Darling, these gentlemen are looking for a Miss. Claire Watson. I remembered that you mentioned an old friend named Claire." He placed his hand on hers and continued to be genial towards the guests.

Claire chuckled at Rodger's mannerisms and shook her head, "I've only heard rumors of the woman and how many headaches she's given to her family. You are probably thinking of my other acquaintance Claire Washburn. I'm sorry to tell you kind gentlemen that she is not here." Claire presented them with her platter only to be abjured by the strangers. She still kept her pleasant mask of civility despite her urge to inform them of their fool's errand.

Rodger checked his pocket watch and rose, "Well, gentlemen unless you have more questions, I must ask you to leave. My wife and I have plans to attend to and have little time to spend on strangers." He tried his best to stay civil but made his tone deliberate.

The gentlemen rose with him and nodded, "Sorry to have taken up your time Mr. Redgrave and Mrs. Redgrave." They inclined their heads in a gesture of respect as if to ease the anxiety Claire and Rodger were feeling. As they began to leave Claire accidently hit the shorter gentleman with her heavy tray full of food. It knocked the wind out of him and caused him to drop to the floor.

Claire's eyes went large like any surprised person would. "I'm dreadfully sorry sir; I did not see you when I turned to go to the kitchen. Do I need Rodger to fetch a doctor?" She asked, concerned and anxious. She made sure to take a step closer to the kitchen where she would be better protected if an assault should occur. Before she could relax, Claire's left shoulder began to pound from the sudden use of force. Without thinking she put the tray down on the table in the sitting room and began to massage her left shoulder with her right hand.

The taller man's eyes narrowed at this display as he whispered something to his colleague who had sat back down and was coughing from the blow. Rodger was near enough to hear, "Didn't the boss say she was shot in the left shoulder?" And immediately rushed to Claire's side and placed a kind hand on her hurt shoulder. "Is that old rowing injury bothering you again, Jenny my dear?" He asked her as he massaged the hurt tissue.

Claire recognized that she had made an error by revealing her injury to the underlings, "Yes... silly me. I keep forgetting how heavy that tray is. I'm so sorry I hit you with it, it was an accident." She placed her hand upon her heart to profess her innocence further. But, she could see that the men were not sold on a rowing injury. She chewed her on her lip, unsure what to do. Claire wanted them gone but now all that mattered was how they were to leave. She looked them over as the pair continued to whisper back and forth. The tall one did not look too formidable but then he might have a gun on him. The shorter one was the bigger threat, he looked like he might have been a boxer from broad body he had. Claire smirked slightly, she could take them both even with the injured shoulder but there would be talk about why the men were so roughed up.

The tall one got up and surveyed Claire close enough for Rodger to object, "Upon my word, good sir. You have trespassed on my time long enough; I suggest you take your friend and leave." His good-natured smile faded.

Both men stood and smiled evilly at Rodger and Claire, "I'm sorry but we can't leave until our job is done. I think it best if Miss. Watson comes with us now, quietly." They extended a hand to Claire who did not take it and glared at them.

The lady stood at her full height of five foot seven and stared them down as she moved towards the kitchen. The tall one made his move and took two strides so that he was between her and the knife set within. He smirked down at her, "You almost had me fooled, until you tried to hit Charlie with that tray. Now you are coming with us unless you want trouble." He flexed his shoulders as if to intimidate her into submission.

Claire rolled her eyes at this display of power from the man, "I won't be going with you anywhere. You have to realize that by now your leader, Lord Rathbone has been caught by the Scotland Yard and is sitting in a cell somewhere. The rest of your allies have either been arrested or are on the run from the law. Now what do you say?" Claire raised an eyebrow, her demeanor of a frightened housewife disposed of to reveal a very put off former spy.

The tall one snarled at her gall and slapped her across the face, "You should show Lord Rathbone the respect he deserves. We have no reason to believe anything you or your friend has to say. Now you will come with us or I'll..." He was cut off by Claire's fist in his Solar plexus which made him double over with a gasp. The short man was about to rush Claire only to be hit on the head with the serving tray by Rodger. The man went down fast and hit the floor with a soft thud. Claire shared a smile with Rodger before she stomped on the taller man's instep which caused him to grunt in pain. The tall assailant slapped Claire again as he stood upright, angry that a woman such as she could hurt him. "Boss never mentioned you would put up a fight." He growled at her as they circled each other like boxers.

Claire took a chance to chuckle, "I forgot that Rathbone never knew what I was capable of. He should have asked Alexander Knight before he sent only two of his henchmen after me." She was baiting him to strike so that she could have another shot at him.

The tall man smirked as he tried to get a shoulder strike to her bad shoulder only to have Claire dodge his punch and hit him square in the nose with a wicked right cross. There was a resounding crack from the nose that could be heard down the lane. He snarled as the blood began to boil forth from the nose. He tried to punch her again only to have Claire complete her plan of attack by kneeing him in the groin. The man could take no more and with a groan he was knocked out onto the floor beside his companion. Rodger looked over both men and made sure they were still alive he then cast a frightened look at Claire who was observing the state of her knuckles. "Well, they are both alive. What are we going to do now Claire? Getting the constable would not be much of help." Rodger was in shock of how easily Claire had taken out a man who was vastly taller than she was.

Claire tilted her head at him with a look of curiosity. "Getting the constable would be the best course of action. We say that they tried to assault us and that we acted in self-defense. My cheek is going to be bruised by the time you get him here. I will tie our guests up and keep them comfortable until you return." She said so nonchalantly that Rodger had forgotten for a moment that she was used to confrontations such as these.

Rodger blinked quickly, "I keep forgetting that you used to deal with vile men like these. I will go get the constable right away, are you sure you will be alright?" He asked in earnest, wanting to help his dear friend.

Claire shook her head as she disappeared and then came back with a good length of rope to tie the two men's hands. "I appreciate your concern Rodger, but I will be fine. I've faced greater foes in my day." Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement which made Rodger all the more wary but none the less he fetched the constable who was surprised that there was a break in.

He took away the two men who were just coming to when he hauled them away with promises that all would be well. The constable could not help but notice that the woman had a bruised hand as well as a bruised cheek while the man had no visible injury. He shook his head; it was nonsense of course, for a woman to do that much damage to full grown men. The constable knew best to let the thought fly away and be more preoccupied with the thought of his wife cooking dinner for him.

_Back in London_

Watson looked at his handiwork of Holmes's right brow, the detective had only needed three stitches and it looked clean and orderly. "Be careful not to let it get wet or it could get infected." He packed his case and watched the detective remain still in his chair. "Now that Rathbone is off our plate, I hope you are pondering the apology you are going to give to Claire." Watson let seriousness of his tone hit Holmes who stared at him as he was mad.

"Do not start to lecture me on that subject, Watson. We both know that my termination of her employment was less than exemplary and for that she does earn an apology. As for the other matter, I am certain Miss. Watson no longer holds any emotions of the romantic nature towards me by now." His cold and distant tone hit Watson like a stone weight.

Watson threw up his hands, "How can that be your rationality? We both know that is rubbish. I have seen you mull over this longer than you have with any woman. I know it is not just because she is my cousin and you're assistant. You are being a coward, Holmes and that is plain as day." Watson's face was slowly turning red from his distaste for his friend trying to run away from his feelings.

Holmes was taken aback slightly by Watson's outburst, he had expected it for some time. "How do you expect me to act, Watson? Am I supposed to the romantic hero and chase down the woman I've come to care for? This attack from Alexander won't be the last attempt at her life. For all we know, Rathbone sent henchmen to wherever she is now to finish what Alexander started. You know how much danger we face each case and yet you think somehow Miss. Watson is an exception to the case of being hurt or kidnapped or killed." Holmes was standing toe to toe with Watson; his tone was hard and rational to the core.

Watson's face lost the red color of anger but he stayed his ground, "I expect you to go to Brighton and tell her the truth, Holmes. She has proven herself time and again that she is resilient against attacks of all sorts and will stand by you no matter the cost. Don't think I do not worry just as much as you do about her safety on a case. If you are right about men being sent after her, you have just as much reason to go after her. I would go with you Holmes, but this is something only the pair of you can discuss." Watson's heart was pounding in his chest in hope that Holmes would agree.

Holmes let his friend's words sink in and then placed a lanky hand on the stouter man's shoulder. "You are right, if Miss. Watson is in danger I should go to her aide. I will take the next train to Brighton and apologize to her, but do not press me for more." The lanky detective turned and began his preparations for his errand. He smirked to himself as he packed, Holmes knew that if Rathbone sent any men that Claire would have them taken care of. Part of him was surprised that Watson underestimated Claire's fighting ability as well, but that was because he still had not seen her in action. The heart of the detective began to leap in anticipation of seeing Claire and even with the thrill of the case in his mind; there was no earthly way for him to stop the feeling of love flow through the rest of his body. Sherlock Holmes was in love, of this he had been certain for awhile now. All that mattered was if the subject of these feelings still shared the same sentiments.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Here it is! The final chapter, thank you to all my reviewers!

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Two of the Same

Claire POV

I awoke to the sound of the gulls and the strong salty air that penetrated every pore in my body. The cottage was quieter since Rodger had left and I missed seeing his thin frame in my doorway telling me to wake up and go on a stroll with him. My body seemed to protest the sudden movement but I grit my teeth and forced myself into a sitting position. The skirmish with the henchmen from the day before yesterday had taken a big toll on my shoulder. Rodger had been concerned enough to fetch a local doctor by the name of Perkins who injected me with morphine despite my protests. As much as my body craved the comforting numbness, the rest of me despised sleeping for so long. I dressed quickly in a green and tan striped dress and a round straw hat with a green ribbon around it. I looked at my reflection, surprised how normal I looked despite the fading bruise on my cheek.

I opened the front door and began to walk towards the beach, the loose gravel crunched beneath my tan shoes. The gulls continued to cry out as I heard a train whistle in the distance and for a moment my heart leapt in anticipation to see a familiar face. I wanted to hate him for dismissing me like some lovelorn character from a bad novel. But, deep down I hoped that he was doing it to protect me from Rathbone. I kicked the sand at the thought of Rathbone and was about to wander to the grocer for much needed food. When I looked up and saw a thin figure in the distance, walking towards me. My heart which had been slumbering was now thudding inside my chest like a caged beast trying to be freed. I shielded my eyes to get a better look at the figure, it was a man and I just hoped it was the one I was waiting for.

Sherlock P.O.V

I knew it was her when I first set foot on the sand, as much as I disliked the feeling of sand getting into my leather shoes. Even though all I could see of her was a large sunhat and a burst of green around it. My mind wanted me to turn around and go back to London, and leave her be in Brighton. I fought this impulse with the logic that after arresting Rathbone that is was essential I come tell a woman that she is free. As I got closer, my heart raged with anticipation and I felt my palms begin to sweat. This was a most foreign feeling for my mind to try to understand, but once I was toe to toe with her, I knew what I had to do. Miss. Watson lowered her hand and smiled slightly despite the healing bruise on her left cheek. I mirrored her smile, "I see that you've had some other visitors." I kept my tone as normal as I could so that she couldn't discern my nervousness.

Miss. Watson laughed lightly which made her blue eyes sparkle with amusement, "Yes, they were not told that I would put up a fight. I was fortunate enough that there were only two, I assume that Rathbone and his ilk are gone?" Her body became tense with want to have good news. I nodded and saw immediately the effect of joy etched into her face. "Thank god, you have no idea how happy this makes me, Mr. Holmes." For the first time I could feel the happiness burst from my former assistant. Her expression of happiness and freedom was infectious and I soon returned her zeal with a small smile.

"I am glad to see you are free of him, Miss. Watson. However, that is not the only reason I came to see you." I felt my heart thud again and I knew there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it. Her infectious smile faltered for a moment and I could see the wheels spinning in her mind as she pondered what I meant. Miss. Watson's brow was furrowed much like her cousin, Dr. Watson until she finally spoke.

"I can only think of two subjects on which you need to speak to me about. The first, of course is your unceremonious firing of me." Miss. Watson's glimmer of joy from my previous news had faded to be replaced with reproach.

I nodded, "Yes, I hope you understand I was firing you so that you would leave London. If I hadn't you would have gotten in the way of the plan to take down Rathbone. I apologize for being so callous, but it was for your own good." I tried my best to sound apologetic but I could tell from her expression that I had missed the mark.

Miss. Watson opened her mouth for a reproach but stopped herself for a moment before speaking with an expression of anger. "If you wanted me out of the way, why did not you just say that instead of stabbing my heart?" Her eyes scanned me for any indication of my reaction. I could tell she was hoping that I would strike down all the things I said. I was about to explain myself but, she was clearly angrier than I had deduced. She spoke again with venom in every word she uttered. "You told me that my feelings for you were misplaced and that you could not imagine being in love with me. How was that for my own good? I thought of all the men I've known in my life, you would be the one who understood me best. But, no you saw me and all you could see was all the trouble I would bring you!" Miss. Watson spat the final words at me and stormed off to her cottage.

My tongue was tied and for the first time I could not say anything in return. I felt shattered by her rebuke and frozen. I watched her go to her home and felt my legs slowly began to make a move to follow her. My mind now began to take apart her attack on my actions and realized that she was right. It rung in my head like a bell, I was wrong about Claire Watson she had been there through thick and thin. She had been like another Dr. Watson in our times with the gang; she kept my zeal for the job up and helped me take down a gang that rivaled Rathbone in terms of power. She had come to me for help and what little I gave to her she accepted with pride. Now, that Miss. Watson decided to give me her heart in hopes of reciprocation, instead I gave her more pain than I realized. My footsteps were quicker as I climbed the steps to the main road and began to follow the trail of the woman in the striped dress. Hope began to bloom in my chest, that she would be there and she could forgive my thoughtlessness.

Third- Person P.O.V

Claire slammed her fist against the counter in her kitchen, angry at herself for allowing hope to live in her heart again. The tears rolled easily off of her face onto the marble surface with a muffled sound compared to her shallow breathing. The woman had no time to herself for there was a knock on the door. She ignored it at first but the pounding on the door would not cease and with her heart echoing the door she opened the door. In her doorway was the unwelcome sight of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "Why did you follow me home? You have nothing else to say as far as I am concerned." Claire made no move to close the door, she hoped he would leave rather than pain her.

Sherlock Holmes did not leave and closed the door behind him, "You are wrong about that Miss. Watson. There are also a few observations that you failed to notice about my conduct with you." His tone was still as calm and measured as ever. Claire raised an eyebrow at this which was odd paired with her tear streaked face. Sherlock wanted to speak and explain it all but he knew words were of no more use and that if he didn't act soon he would lose her forever. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and kissed Claire tenderly on the lips. He felt his heart soar with the energy and warmth of her lips. There was a moment of stillness before he felt the return kiss from Claire. Holmes no longer cared for the warnings his mind had prepared, instead he let himself go and abandon himself to kissing the woman he loved.

Claire could barely keep herself upright as Sherlock kissed her and it took her no time at all to return the kiss with equal fervor. There was no longer any doubt of his feelings towards her and the woman felt her blood begin to warm. Claire felt Sherlock's tongue snake into her mouth and she suppressed a sigh of pleasure. She wanted him to devour her and she wanted to do the same. Her tongue began to wrestle with his and she heard the distinct sound of Sherlock moan. Claire had to breathe and finally separated from her new love. Her eyes were bright and the tears on her face were from happiness. "I hoped you were lying to me when you fired me. I hoped that you might have an inkling of the same feelings as I did."

Sherlock returned her sentiment by kissing her neck delicately, "I do not know how you can forgive me for doing that to you, Claire. I was blind to anything but the case." His grey eyes softened to showcase his sincerity. In return Claire smirked before she placed her hands on either side of Sherlock's face and kissed him passionately.

When they broke apart with blushed cheeks, Claire spoke again, "I can think of a few ways for you to earn that forgiveness." She added with a demur look that would have shocked anyone else. Sherlock seized her lips again and they wrestled each others lips until Claire moved her lips down to his neck and began to undo his tie. Sherlock felt exhilarated to feel the warm touch of her lips on the nape of his neck. His blood was singing and his heart had successfully overcome his mind. He slowly let his thin hands explore Claire's soft chocolate brown hair as he felt his coat removed. Then his eyes opened to focus on the lady standing in front of him, her eyes shined. "You are a hard man to fall in love with, I hope you realize that." Her tone was playful and slightly husky from her desire.

Holmes nodded in concession, "I have been told that before, believe it or not. I hope you realize that this is not an easy thing to realize. It took me the better part of four years to see you not as a woman but as a lover." He felt the heat rise to his cheeks but he kept the blush away. He cemented this sentiment by kissing Claire's neck to be egged on by her gasp of pleasure. Holmes bit into the soft skin to release a low moan. He smirked at his conquest and began to unbutton the top buttons of Claire's dress. As they began to unbutton each other's clothes, Claire began to walk backwards towards her room, making sure to lead Sherlock with her. She managed to remove his shirt as they crossed the threshold into her room. Claire marveled at his pale, thin frame that stood out against the dark nipples. Holmes felt her begin to explore this new canvas by tracing his stomach with her fingertips. His skin tingled to each touch and he wanted more. Claire seemed to read his mind and began to suck and pinch his dark nipples which sent Holmes into a garbled moan.

Sherlock took this as a time to be the dominant one and began to finish unbuttoning Claire's dress. He cursed the many layers of women's clothing which made Claire laugh as she stepped out of her outer-petticoat and began to undo her corset and with it the last petticoat. The sea air gave her Goosebumps as nothing remained but Sherlock's trousers. Claire was not shy by any means and with a wicked grin she began to kiss his stomach and then to the line of his trousers. She dealt with the button and could hear Sherlock's sigh of pleasure when she let the pants drop to the floor. Claire brought her eyes level to his and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

Sherlock took an extra look at Claire's tall frame and in particular an old scar that arched over her right nipple. He knew better than to ask about an old wound and began to lick and prod the scar with his tongue. Claire gasped again, which made him stop for a moment before she spoke in a heated whisper. "Please, keep going..." Her eyes were pleading for pleasure and Sherlock took the nipple into his mouth again with greater fervor. Claire abandoned herself to the continued rise of heat to the lower part of her body. She moaned and gasped until she thought she would burst. Claire put her head against Sherlock's upper torso and began to slowly nip and lick his left nipple. Sherlock hummed deep in his throat as he felt the new sensation pulse within him. He felt Claire fall backwards onto the bed and let himself fall with her.

Holmes had been with women before has part of a coming of age ritual that still left a bad taste in his mouth. This woman was an entirely different sort as far as he was concerned and lowered his face onto hers and kissed her chastely. "You are so lovely, Claire." He murmured against her neck.

Claire blushed which made her face look even younger, "I hope you have deduced that this is not the first time I've done this." Her eyes were growing dark with lust.

Sherlock merely smirked as he pushed away a stray strand of Claire's hair, "You are correct in that assumption, as you remember I was in the pub along with the whole gang to hear that accomplishment." His grey eyes danced in remembrance. Claire began to laugh loudly at the memory and would have rolled off the bed if Sherlock wasn't on top of her. They shared the laughter for a moment before the kissing resumed with new vigor. Lips touched skin and heated whispers of filthy encouragement were exchanged as the sun set in Brighton. The waves of pleasure seemed to be unending as they thrashed well into the night. Claire felt her world come crashing down with a loud cry into the night and for a long moment everything was bathed in white. Sherlock traced his beloved's neck with his lips as they lay together, covered with sweat and bruises to celebrate the culmination of so much longing. Claire smiled as she turned to face Sherlock.

Her blue eyes glistened with contentment as smiled at him, "I underestimated your stamina, Mr. Holmes. I promise you it won't happen again." Claire's tone was playful and droll as she brushed her nose against the detective's famous nose.

Sherlock chuckled as he brushed his hand against Claire's arm. "I should hope not, Miss. Watson. I will admit that you surprised me with the extent of your carnal knowledge." His tone matched hers with wit that caused the pair of them to share more laughter. There would be discussions about when they first fell for each other but all that mattered was that they had finally come to be one. Claire was never so pleased as she was in that moment, with her arm draped over Sherlock's as she slept.


End file.
